Draco watched as Hermione gripped the hair on her scalp in two tightly clenched fists. He could tell she was trying with all of her might not to sob, but short, pained whimpers kept escaping her lips every few seconds. This is... awkward. He felt himself wanting to provide her comfort. A part of him wondered if this was because of their current situation, but decided it wasn't. They were both two very different people after returning for their eighth year.
Draco didn't need to witness the scene he just saw in the Granger's home to be aware of the fact. That just happened to be the cement overlay over a buried casket.
Right when he opened his mouth to offer the best words of comfort he could muster – the Knight Bus slammed to a stop, sending the beds around them flying. The unexpected jolt caused Draco to bite down on his tongue. "Ow! Son of a bitch!" He continued to groan as Ernie Prang turned around in the driver's seat, calling out to them as if there was anyone else on the Knight Bus this Christmas Eve night.
"Here ya go! The Leaky Cauldron." Draco, only thinking that he wanted to get off the death trap that was the magicked, purple, triple decker bus as soon as possible, grabbed Hermione's forearm and rushed them past the folding double doors.
Once their feet had hit the sidewalk in front of the Leaky, Hermione ripped her arm out of his hold. She didn't want to go back home in the first place, not with Draco anyway. She knew how her parents felt about magic after she had restored their memories, but she went at her Healer's suggestion anyway, hoping the educated witch had been right in saying they would grow accustomed to her if she continued to show her face. 'Remind them that you're their daughter, Miss Granger. They'll accept who you are and what you've done after they see their daughter's face again.' Hermione reckoned she would have been right if Draco sodding Malfoy wasn't tethered to her. Amazing how one poorly handled curse in Defense Against the Dark Arts class changed everything. She thought sarcastically. "Keep your hands off of me."
"I didn't mean anything by it, I just wanted off of that bloody thing."
Hermione sniffled. She knew she couldn't technically fault him for grabbing her so they could get off the bus. If he tried to exit by himself, he would have been yanked on to his back the second he tried to get more than one meter away from her. That didn't mean she wasn't still livid with him for accidentally mishandling the curse they were siphoning out of an artifact, all because he got distracted in class.
"Whatever." Hermione started to make her way inside of the Leaky Cauldron, only looking back to make sure Draco followed close enough behind.
The moment she was inside, Tom the Innkeeper lifted his head from the booth table he had started to doze off on. "'Ello, Miss Granger! Passing through at this late -?" He stopped at the sight of Draco and hastily reached for his wand.
"He's with me, Tom." Hermione sounded exhausted, and Draco cast his eyes to the ground.
It hadn't been the first time that Draco almost had a wand pulled on him in public, nor was it the first time that Hermione had to stand up for him. For some reason, it had become a bit of a recurring theme since she gave her testimony at the trials; There were several students at Hogwarts who tried to corner Draco a handful of times when he was alone, but it seemed that Head Girl Hermione Granger had been there to deduct points away and give detentions. It didn't take long for students to understand that Draco was not to be messed with.
Tom grunted, not removing his eyes off of Draco's person, as if he was going to conjure a silver mask to wear around the bar and inn at any moment.
"And we need a room." She added as she placed her beaded bag on to the counter so she could easily fish out her coin purse.
"Two rooms?" Tom asked for clarification. "Your own room would be on the house, of course. It's the least I can do." His meaning was clear and Draco's jaw clenched.
Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose. If she hadn't let loose in her childhood home less than an hour ago, Draco thought she might have trashed the bar instead. Hermione politely shook her head, and when she spoke, her voice was forcibly soft, as if she were trying to console Tom like he was the one who needed to share a room with Draco. Instead, it sounded like she was talking to an irksome child. "One room, sir. Thank you."
"We don't have any available rooms with double beds, surely you don't want to share -"
There was the sound of metal hitting aged wood. It made Hermione jump and place a hand over her wands hilt. She looked beside her to see Draco had slammed thirteen galleons and two sickles on to the counter. "Keep the change." The corners of Hermione's lips twitched upward as she was reminded of her favorite Christmas movie to watch this time a year: Home Alone.
Tom, however, had seemed to adopt a more hostile temperament since Hermione last stayed at the Leaky Cauldron. "I don't need your coinage, Malfoy." The name rolled off his tongue as if it were something foul he was spitting out.
Draco was over feeling shocked at his new social standing in wizarding society and now only had anger. Never had he ever been refused once he opened his coin bag. "My gold is as good as hers." To make his point, he slammed three more galleons down on to the counter. "Just give us a room and -"
It was the first time that Hermione witnessed Draco coming undone since their sixth year, but she was aware not much good would come out of it. "Alright, that's enough." She gathered the coins from the table and shoved them into Draco's chest. It was evident that neither he nor Tom were about to back down and the last thing she wanted was for more hexes to fly, resulting in them having to share a holding cell for the night. "We're leaving." This time, it was she who grabbed his arm as she dragged him towards the doors.
Both men were surprised at this, but Tom was the one who snapped out of his stupor first. "Wa- Wait!"
"If you think that I am going to stay in an inn where the guests are treated improperly just because of past transgressions that have been proven by the Wizgamont themselves to be forgivable, you are sorely mistaken!" Not once did she slow down as she announced their departure, so when Draco started to plant his feet into the ground, she whirled around to face him. Her nostrils were flared and her eyebrows were raised as if she was ready to duel him on the spot if he muttered anything less than ingenious.
"Where are we going?" Draco whispered.
Hermione took a deep breath, assuming it was obvious she was going to look for a Muggle hostel. "I know I did not just speak up on your behalf just so you can look down on -"
"No!" Draco hissed. "I was just wondering if you had any of that muggle parchment on you. Gringott's is closed and I'd rather sleep in the snow than that bloody bus."
The muscles in Hermione's face fell slack with shock. She didn't have any muggle currency on her. Their only other option was the Knight Bus, and as much as she hated to agree with Draco, she too would take the risk of contracting hypothermia than rent a bed with Ernie driving.
"Miss Granger, please. I would never want a war hero like yourself to feel like she or – or her friend are not welcomed at the Leaky Cauldron." Tom waved a hand behind him. "I'll get you the best room available, on the house."
Before Hermione could say anything, Draco scoffed. "You just don't want her to tell the rest of her friends about how inhospitable this place is. Is Rita Skeeter still begging for an interview, Granger? Perhaps Tom was hoping to get an honorable mention." Draco couldn't help the jab, and was almost delighted to see mild fear flash in Tom's eyes before the Innkeeper shifted his gaze back to Hermione.
Hermione made an indignant sound in the back of her throat before squaring her shoulders. "The bint knows better than to ask me for a single thing," despite her anger, the reassurance she would not be speaking to Rita Skeeter had him relax. "Pay him, Malfoy." Draco raised a singular eyebrow, as if to question why he should do such a thing when Tom was willing to gift them a free night, and didn't move otherwise. "I'm not taking advantage of his hospitality, and I refuse to deal with you sulking all night because he refused your payment."
She expected for Draco to fight with her, but instead he just gave her a curt nod and held the money out for Tom to collect. At once, the Innkeeper returned to the cheerful host she was accustomed to, wasting no time to show them to their room.
Hermione sat on the toilet, her head in her hands as she listened to the sound of the shower head splashing water over Draco's body. It had quickly become clear that if the two wanted to maintain their usual standard of hygiene, they would need to get a lot more comfortable being next to each other for the next month.
An entire, sodding month. Hermione massaged her scalp, resisting the urge to bounce her legs. It had always been an anxious habit she had, one that she struggled to re-break every couple of years. Technically, that's only twenty two days since we have been stuck for eight days. I can do this -
"Do you want to talk about it?" While his voice was light, it still ended up reverberating off of the bathroom walls thanks to the natural acoustics the bathroom had. It was the first time that Draco had attempted to say anything that sounded completely friendly and it caught her entirely off guard. She thought that perhaps she would have been able to muster a proper reaction to such a sentiment if it never happened.
It wasn't them being stuck together, Draco and Hermione had gotten over the news that they were temporarily cursed and needed to remain within a meter of each other until it naturally lifted rather quickly. After many failed attempts to walk away from each other, and countless hours at the library, they accepted the fact that they needed to do the same thing they had done the year prior while they fought on opposite sides of the war:
They just needed to get through it.
Sleeping arrangements might have been the easiest hurdle to get past. They were bestowed the title of Head Boy and Head Girl upon their return to Hogwarts, meaning they had their own dorm. It was easy to transfigure two lounge chairs into beds so they could sleep in the main common room. Showering had been trickier, but that was only because of their mistrust for one another. While Draco had apologized for his part in the war the night they were shown their new dorm, that hardly made them friends. The apology had only opened up a slight understanding of one another, which helped create a completely neutral territory where they tolerated each other. In fact, they had only been paired together in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom because the new professor picked up that Hermione was the only returning student who didn't display her distaste for Draco.
Alas, being bound to Draco was not her biggest problem at the moment. Her biggest gripe that had her fighting tears every minute of every hour after they had arrived at the Granger's home for Christmas Eve, was the fact she came home to find her childhood home half empty. The only thing her parents seemed to leave was anything that belonged to her and old furniture that would have probably fallen apart if they had tried to move it. Her parents left her a note on the small table they kept in the doorway, informing her that they would be 'disowning the thing that consumed their daughter' and that they 'would prefer she never seek them out again.'
So she trashed the home. Every inch of it. She screamed, she cried, she yelled. Hermione realized now that she might have scared Draco, but he stayed completely silent through the whole ordeal, even as she pulled the wood off of the door frame where her parents had marked her growth spurts in her primary school-days with her bare hands.
Being disowned during Christmas was her problem.
"No, I rather not." Hermione tiredly rubbed at her face. Usually she had a book to read every time he bathed, but between the pounding headache and the cacophony of memories that were replaying in her head, she didn't think she could be able to focus. "I would like to go to bed though." She tried to put a little venom into her voice, just to feign some level of normality, but her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears.
Not a full minute later, she heard Draco turn off the water. She passed Draco a towel behind the curtain and threw his clean clothes on to the railing of the shower curtain. It was the strategy they used to ensure they would not accidentally expose themselves to each other.
Unfortunately for Hermione, Draco decided that now was a time to purposefully expose himself.
When he stepped out of the shower, her head automatically turned at the sound. He had thrown the towel on to the floor before he flipped his white T-shirt over his shoulder. The man was fit and color immediately rose to her cheeks as she eyed the defined muscles that laid beneath his silvery-pink Sectumsempra scars. He had only picked out two articles of clothing to wear, and somehow, knowing he wore nothing to conceal the print in his joggers drove her a little mad in ways she didn't expect.
Hermione quickly cut her eyes back to his face. "Why do you bother having me pass you a shirt if you refuse to wear it?"
He gave her a smirk before he winked at her, "Just providing you a distraction, love."
Hermione got up and stood so close to him that her nose was only inches from his chin. "Don't do that. While we're stuck together, you will not cross that line and flirt with me." Her voice had gotten dangerously low and he pressed himself against the wall behind them to put space between them. The last thing I need is to become attracted to him. She swallowed. More than any person already is, of course. She would have to be blind not to see that Draco was not a fine piece of work. The scars be damned.
"I was only joking, Granger." His eyebrows furrowed together and she tried to search his eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but he stepped to the side to pull his shift over his head. "I think you ought to get some rest." Guilt bloomed in her stomach as she followed close behind him. She was flustered – she had no trouble admitting that to herself – but she had no right to snap at him when it was obvious he only wanted to help.
They were silent as they prepared themselves for bed, more so than usual. Hermione in particular was moving as if she was afraid to unfold her blanket too quickly in the event it made too loud of a sound, shattering the tense air between them.
Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye as she wrapped her hair into a messy bun on top of her head and lay down, her back to him as she faced the wall. Her inner turmoil was radiating off of her in waves and he refused to go to bed until she addressed it. His mother had warned him about a witch going to bed when she was upset, and while they weren't friends, he was going to abide by the advice if they had to share a bed.
"Granger," his voice was low and when she didn't move, he thought she might not have heard him. He laid down, just peeking over the wall of pillows they had set up as he watched how the lines of her clothing shifted slightly with every breath she took. "Granger," he tried again, this time a little louder.
Hermione lifted her head, but didn't say a word.
He didn't push her acknowledgement of him, deciding that maybe he needed to try a different tactic if she didn't want to talk about what she was feeling. "I'm sorry for surprising you earlier. I wasn't thinking. I'm still... I'm still self conscious about my scars and sometimes I'll try to flaunt them to feign confidence again."
"It's fine." Her head dropped back down to her pillow at the sound of her defeated reply.
Little did she know, her actions didn't sit right with him at all. He was annoyed at himself for letting her feelings affect his so much. She can defeat Voldemort no problem, but Merlin forbid two Muggles say they don't want her anymore. He was aware the thought was unfair, and he instantly regretted letting his annoyance get the best of him. If anyone asked, he would have said it was about her moping, but in actuality, he was concerned that he was starting to care for her.
"We don't have to go to the Manor."
Hermione rolled on to her opposite side so she was now facing the pillows, just like he was. She could see one grey eye looking down at her and a cowlick of platinum hair sticking straight up. "You don't mean that. You fought me tooth and nail for me to agree to go to the Manor. We'll be heading there in the morning."
Draco placed an arm on the pillow between them so she could see how serious he was being. "My argument the entire time was that if we were going to your parent's house for the hols, then we were going to mine." The flash of hurt in her eyes as he spoke only had his resolve strengthen, even if a part of him felt broken for not being able to see Narcissa like he promised. "Not like you have fond memories being there like I do anyway." Draco hadn't thought anything of his bluntness until he watched Hermione's eyes unfocus. She brought her left arm to her chest and held it with her right hand, keeping the carved words that read 'Mudblood' hidden.
"Granger, I -"
"They told me to wait at Hogwarts until today. They said they wouldn't be in town from their trip until today." Draco's jaw audibly snapped shut. She was opening up to him and he decided he would not mess it up to avoid making her feel worse. "I knew something was wrong when I saw the bird feeder we kept in front of the house so low. I thought – I thought the worst had happened." Draco watched in silent horror as tears leaked from her eyes and disappeared into her dark hairline. He vaguely remembered Hermione picking up her pace and speeding towards the front door of the quaint home. She usually would have been yanked back with the curse they had, but he supposed with heightened emotions, her magic dominated over his and pulled him forward. It was a small detail he had forgotten entirely, as he was preoccupied with how she exploded minutes later. "I don't blame them for leaving. They have every right to hate me.
Her gaze drifted over to his face. Draco was completely transfixed with what she was saying. "The Summer of seventh year I obliviated them, you know. Just in case they would be used against me by the Death Eaters. I closed and cashed out accounts they had for decades, sent resignation letters via emails to their place of work. I made sure there were no loose ends. I even forged paperwork to keep the house under my name, so they had their home to return to when I brought them back." Her voice started to crack and she looked away before speaking again.
"You don't have to talk -" He whispered, but Hermione spoke over him.
"But I want to. And if you're still willing to listen, then I'd like to." He could see in the moonlight that her nose was starting to pink along with the area around her eyes. He couldn't refuse her when she obviously needed this, so he gave her a curt nod. "I sent them to Australia. The only thing is, my charm was too strong. They regained most of their memories, but at random moments, they'll think they're in another time or they forget basic motor skills. It never lasts more than a minute, but it's not a pleasant experience. It's even unnerving trying to watch them come back from any... glitches." She wiped her hands over her wet temples as her tears were tickling her. "The healers called them that. Glitches, I mean.
"The worst part of it all though," Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. She stayed like that for what felt like the longest time, as she compartmentalized her thoughts and feelings until she was past the point of crying. She slowly felt anger building up in her again. "It was the way they looked at me. They wouldn't let me come near them, and if I even tried to wave my wand anywhere near them-" She took another breath. "I'm so fucking stupid. I should have seen it coming. Why would they want someone like me? A monster?" She gave a bitter laugh and turned away from him so she was facing the wall once more. "I'm sorry I've been foul to you today. We'll head to the Manor tomorrow."
"You don't get to say all of that to me, call yourself a monster and act like it never happened." Draco was completely bewildered at seeing this side of her for the first time... But if he was being honest, he liked how raw she was when she was letting her emotions rule over her logic. "Granger, listen to me – look at me."
"Good night, Malfoy." Hermione pulled the covers over her shoulder, thinking she had finalized the conversation.
Only a second later, she heard a muffled pouf sound of the pillow they were using as a miniature partition was thrown to the foot of the bed, before she felt a pull on her shoulder, hip, and knee. It seemed he had tried to get up from their King-sized bed, and activated the curse, which caused her to roll towards him at a sharp speed.
She yelped as she rolled across the bed, and was shocked when she didn't fly off the edge. She was stopped by Draco, who had flipped himself on top of her so he could stare down at her. It was clever, and she should have been angry with him, but she was instead struck by how attractive he looked. Here was Draco Malfoy, looming over her in a bed they had to share, with one of his legs on her outer thigh while the other nestled between her knees. She was captivated by how he was able to look both human and like a celestial being as the moonlight reflecting off of the halo of his platinum blonde flyaways over his head. The position she was put in was whelming, and her body was deciding that it was a good thing rather than a bad thing.
'Distractions aren't all bad,' she vaguely remembered her Healer saying to her one time. 'Our minds regularly need breaks where we don't have to think.'
Draco gave pause, nearly regretting the position he just put them in as he couldn't help but stare at how the features Hermione had grown into made her a real sight to behold – even with the mild telltale signs of crying. A part of him wanted to spend hours connecting constellations over her freckles with light kisses, but he reminded himself there was a message he needed to get across before she decided to kick him off so he could sleep under the bed.
"I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you're a heroine or that you're amazing for helping the chosen one. That's what The Prophet is for. What I will tell you though is that you are not a monster for doing what you had to do for your loved ones. That's... That's what my healer keeps telling me and if I have to believe it for myself, you need to believe it, too. Your parents made a mistake by giving you up and I have no question that they'll regret it one day."
Draco tried to search her eyes, but she ended up closing them, so he was left with analyzing her face again. Her skin looked so soft and his hand twitched with the urge to run the pads of his fingers over it. Her lips were full, pink hills that tempted him with a promise to caress his own satiny set if he dared to kiss her.
Before he could do anything stupid, like give in to his desires, she opened her eyes again. There was a look in her eyes he had never seen before.
"It's good to know that I'm not the only one in our year who is listening to their therapist." She swallowed hard as she studied his face. He started to get off of her, but she caught his marked arm, forcing him to keep it on the mattress unless he decided to rip it from her hold. "It's easier to collapse into myself instead of face my thoughts. My demons, if I were to be honest." Hermione locked eyes with him and she could feel their simple understanding shift into something more. Or perhaps it was morphing into something else? Deep down she knew she would be delighted for them to become friends, if not something more after what she was about to ask, but for now, she was only thinking about surviving the night with the man she would be stuck with for almost three more weeks. "Maybe a distraction would help? I don't want to think right now," Hermione slid a hand beneath his shirt and thumbed the silken flesh of a scar. " And I don't mind them, you know."
Draco felt his eyes widen as he looked down at her. He was right to say that neither of them were the same anymore as he didn't waste another shaky breath before closing the small distance between them and kissing her. Thinking was the last thing he wanted to do and this type of distraction was more than acceptable to him.
Neither of them knew what would happen in the morning when they woke up with bruised and sore bodies, but what they could say was that on one of the worst Christmas Eves of their lives, they had each other.
Emotionally, physically, and magically.