The second there was a break after Molly Weasley's impeccable roast dinner and before dessert could be brought to the table, Hermione cast a very significant look down the table at Ginny.
She and Ginny didn't even bother coming up with a pretense for why they both needed to leave the table and go to the pantry off the Burrow's kitchen at the same time. Hermione merely jerked her head toward the kitchen and Ginny dutifully followed.
"Ginny, if I tell you something, will you promise to keep it between us for now? And to also not get protective or mad or—"
"Hermione is someone threatening you?"
"What, no!" Hermione sputtered in confusion.
"Oh, good, so then this is love-life stuff." The red-head's expression immediately brightened as Hermione goggled at her.
"No! Why are danger and sex always your first two assumptions?"
"Because they're the most exciting?"
Hermione giggled at her friend's earnest enthusiasm but then sobered quickly as she edged closer to divulging her whereabouts Friday night.
"Hermione," began Ginny gently, sensing her friend's hesitation. "You can tell me anything, you know. Harry and the rest of the family don't need to be involved in your personal business unless you choose to involve them. How can I help?"
Hermione took a steadying breath, but then the words still tumbled inelegantly out of her mouth in a rush. "IhaddinnerwithMalfoylastFridaynight."
Ginny's jaw dropped. "In whatever you just mumbled at me, I heard the words 'dinner' and 'Malfoy' which leads me to conclude that YOU WENT ON A DATE WITH HIM!?"
In the resounding silence that followed the shouted end of Ginny's question, Hermione cringed as she heard a fork drop to the table in the adjacent dining room. Hermione shot her friend a glare and Ginny had the good grace to finally look embarrassed as she clapped her hands over her own mouth.
Hermione rolled her eyes and cast a quick Muffliato in the direction of the pantry door. "It was not. A. Date." Hermione ground out dangerously. If this was how Ginny reacted to a simple dinner out with Malfoy, then how on earth was Hermione supposed to divulge she'd also be attending a ballet with the man in February?
Ginny lowered her hands, grinning sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I went full Ron there, didn't I?"
Hermione sighed and covered her face in her hands. "I don't expect anyone to understand or accept this, but we're friends, me and Malfoy. He's a lot different from our school days."
Ginny chewed on her bottom lip nervously, but nodded all the same. "Believe me Hermione, if anyone on the whole planet could convince me of that, it would be you. It doesn't mean that as soon as this conversation is over that I'm not going to immediately check outside to see if nifflers are indeed flying."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny's turn of phrase.
"He apologized to me last night," she stated softly and Ginny's eyebrows flew up in surprise.
"For what he used to call you in school?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, for his behavior back then and for the slur he used. He also apologized for what his aunt did to me when the Snatchers brought us to the Manor." Though the scars from Bellatrix's knife were long gone, it didn't stop Hermione from rubbing her left forearm compulsively.
Ginny noticed the movement and frowned. "And he was sincere?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," Hermione quickly replied. "He really is different, Gin. He's had to overcome a lot the past few years and I think it matured him quite a lot. But then, we all had to grow up too fast, didn't we?"
Ginny's mouth set in a grim line as she nodded. "Too right," she muttered and Hermione knew her friend understood. No one in their generation had gotten a proper childhood or adolescence. School children turned into soldiers and weapons.
Hermione sighed and hugged her arms around her body and stared at the floor of the pantry.
"Forgiving him was the easy part, but I was worried that once I did, that it would all be over. I feared I was merely a goal on his redemption checklist. Instead, it seemed like he was afraid of my reaction. He thought he'd lose my friendship if we talked about our past." She looked back up at Ginny. "I like being around him, Gin. I enjoy his company. Is that wrong?"
Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile and reached out to squeeze Hermione's shoulder. "Oh Hermione, of course not. If you feel like he's—"
Just then the door to the pantry was ripped open and the girls jumped apart to glare at the two intruders. Harry and Ron stood flanking the small doorway, arms crossed with identical devilish grins on their faces. Harry quickly dismissed Hermione's sound-interfering charm.
"Well, well, what's this we hear my wife shouting about? How was your date the other night Hermione?"
Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny mumbled another apology to her. "It. Was. Not. A. Date."
Harry and Ron exchanged smirks, which only further infuriated Hermione. "Why is everyone so obsessed with my love life or lack thereof?! Ugh, bunch of bloody gossips, the both of you!"
"Well, if it gets serious, we want to make sure he's up to our standards. Would you like to go ahead and tell us the name of this bloke you've been spending all your free time with lately?" asked Ron.
"No, because it's none of your business and it was just one dinner! As friends!" Hermione shoved past her two smirking friends in a huff to see if Molly needed help clearing up.
Once she was gone, Harry's smile dropped as he turned back to his wife. "So was it just dinner?"
Ginny shot him a quelling glare. "Harry, I won't be put in this position again. This is just like the Yule Ball fiasco with Krum. If Hermione wants to tell you about her personal life, she will. Can you two just leave her be and let her figure this out on her own?"
"I don't like her keeping secrets from us," grunted Ron.
"I know," she replied gently. "Please, both of you, trust her judgment."
The boys exchanged small frowns but shrugged in agreement. "Promise you'll hex this guy's balls off if he hurts her?" asked Ron.
"Oh, I'd take quite a bit of pleasure in doing that again," chuckled Ginny. Ron left then but Harry shot his wife a questioning glance before he followed suit. It took a moment for Ginny to realize her verbal slip-up. Damn, Harry was often too perceptive for his own good. Praying her husband wouldn't think too hard about her comment and start making assumptions, Ginny joined the rest of the family back in the dining room. Maybe it was time to dig up that mobile phone Hermione had gifted her last Christmas if they wanted to talk more privately about Malfoy…
December 2007
Now that Draco counted Granger as an official friend, he found it put less pressure on his daily interactions with her. He no longer winced when she said the words "sorry" or "thank you" and he could offer them as well in conversation without breaking into a sweat. Like a normal, adult person.
For example:
"Sorry, Granger, could I borrow your pen thing for a minute? Thanks."
Or, "sorry, but Malfoy could you look at this last line of these new crup-breeding regulations? Thank you, I don't think the wording is quite right."
Maybe Healer Browning had been right about apologizing after all. Draco hadn't needed a Calming Draught in weeks, but did anticipate he would need one for the coming weekend.
The second weekend of every December, Draco's employers at Whisp Wright threw an extravagant Christmas gala, inviting all the quidditch elite. Employees were expected to attend, and you'd have to be dead to not want to be seen at this particular soiree.
Though Draco was still counted among the living, he dreaded this party every year. He never took a date, spent the required amount of polite time schmoozing with the Wasps' staff and players, then downed as much free Ogden's as he could before ending up pissed and Flooing back home or to Theo's place.
Come to think of it, he really should owl his friend. He hadn't seen him in months, and spending proper drunken time together was definitely in order. But Theo had replied to Draco's most recent owl saying he unfortunately already had plans that particular evening. Draco frowned as he read the letter. It was unlike his friend to be so vague.
Draco was ruminating about Theo's mysterious absence from his life as of late, when Granger's impatient huff broke through.
"Ginny told me she can't come to the Ministry gala this weekend. That means I have to play Harry's bodyguard all night."
Draco smirked. "Poor Potter can't defend himself from the onslaught of female admirers on his own, eh?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have no idea. Harry is so bloody polite to everyone, they think he's truly interested. People practically grope him when Ginny's not around! One year, some drunken witch actually snuck up behind him and snipped off a lock of his hair! A security wizard stunned her before she could run off."
Draco burst out laughing and Hermione followed suit. "I can actually picture that git's horrified face."
As their laughter died out and they sipped their morning beverages, Draco's mind began to picture something else. What did Granger look like when she attended the Ministry Christmas gala? Muggle style gowns were all the rage these days, with witches learning how to tastefully wear dresses that exposed much more skin than the usual dress robe. Which way did Granger lean, fashion-wise? Strapless ball gown or opulent robes? And what would she do with her hair? Draco, and probably every other boy at Hogwarts, remembered well her sleek up-do from their Fourth Year at the Yule Ball. Or perhaps she would leave it down for the evening, her soft-looking waves spilling down the inviting bare skin of her shoulders and back…
Stop.
No.
Granger is your friend. These were not thoughts one had about a friend. Especially such a recent friend. Especially such a recent friend who would most likely not take kindly to any sort of sordid thoughts or feelings about her attractiveness from her former childhood bully.
Merlin, help him, did he have to be such a creep?
But thank Salazar for small mercies. Draco's employers purposely scheduled their annual gala for the same night as the Ministry one. Having found over the years that combining government officials, quidditch stars, and copious amounts of free alcohol led to slimy behavior and backroom dealing from both parties, the galas conflicted with one another as an avoidance tactic.
Which meant Draco didn't have to fret about whether or not it would be appropriate to ask Granger if she'd like to attend his company's party with him. Of course that didn't stop his mind from conjuring the image of her clutching his arm as he introduced her to people, or how she might lead him over to the dance floor where he could pull her close and…
Stop.
No.
I am in control of this.
Draco leaned up against the marble bar, sipping on his second drink of the evening. He'd exhausted all his social charm between various Wasp players, their spouses, reserve players, coaching staff, team owners, and trainers. Now he could quietly stand by the bar alone, enjoy some drinks courtesy of his employer, and silently judge everyone in the room until it became a socially acceptable hour to leave.
One of Draco's favorite train wrecks, Cormac McLaggen, was well on his way to making a spectacular fool of himself. This would be the moron's final week with the agency, as word somehow (Draco would bet half his vaults on Macnair being involved) reached the partners about all the lecherous activity he got up to with the prospects he was supposed to be scouting for the Harpies and suddenly, McLaggen found himself removed from his post. He spent all week talking up the new job his Uncle Tiberius had secured for him at the Ministry, as if the entire office didn't already know the real reason for his sudden departure.
Bellamy had swiftly promoted Fiona Moy in McLaggen's place and given that the woman had actually played Keeper for the Harpies before retiring to scout, Draco knew he'd probably have stiff competition at roster-building come next season.
And even though Cormac was no longer technically employed at Whisp Wright, it hadn't stopped him from showing up to the holiday gala. The poor excuse for a wizard had danced rather lewdly with both Beaters from the Harpies, almost spilled his drink on the Keeper for the Ballycastle Bats, and had just now made an ill-advised attempt to place his hands on the shoulders of a red-headed woman in a stunning silvery dress.
Ginny Potter's wand was at McLaggen's throat faster than he could blink. Draco chuckled into his drink as the gaping moron retracted his wandering hands and stammered an apology. The She-Weasel whispered something threatening, based on the oaf's terrified expression, then turned abruptly on her heel to stalk toward the bar. Her eyes caught Draco's and her face grew into a smirk as she stowed her wand away.
Draco thought she might just give him a polite nod as she usually did when they crossed paths in public. Much to his surprise, the redhead continued to make a beeline for him and took up the post right next to his elbow at the bar.
"Hello Malfoy."
"Weasley."
"Potter."
"Sorry?"
"My last name is Potter now."
"Right, well what's your poison?"
"Ogden's of course."
Draco motioned to the bartender and ordered himself a fresh glass and one for Ginny.
"Cheers." she said flatly, and clinked her glass against his. They were silent for a few minutes, sipping their respective whiskys.
"So tell me then," Draco drawled to his new companion. "What exactly did you say to McLaggen to make him look like he might wet himself?"
Ginny snorted. "What a complete tosser. I simply told him the name of the ward in St. Mungo's he could find the last man who tried to touch me without permission."
Draco inclined his head toward her in a sign of mild respect then tipped his glass back to take a drink. Ginny chose that precise moment to state matter-of-fact: "Plus I let him know which venereal disease he'd likely contracted from his naked romp with one of my teammates."
Draco spat his drink out as he hastily tried to hold back a bark of laughter which then turned into a hacking cough from the burning alcohol. Ginny thumped his back a few times. "All right there, ferret? It's all right, not all of us can handle our firewhisky," she said in a falsely sweet voice.
Recovering from the embarrassing display of doing a spit-take in public, and from the mind-blowing fact that the littlest Weasley was actually funny, Draco shot her a sneer.
"So, no husband to protect you tonight from the less genteel among us? What's your saintly counterpart up to this evening? Knitting blankets for orphaned unicorns?"
Ginny turned to face him fully, a wide smirk on her face. The female Weasley was unfortunately not as easy to wind up as her brothers. "Why Malfoy, you know perfectly well where Harry is this evening. He's keeping the company of a certain mutual friend of ours."
Draco narrowed his eyes, all traces of humor leaving his face. "I assume you're speaking about Granger," he said evenly.
Ginny nodded and began mindlessly fiddling with an ice cube in her glass. "Yes, Hermione has the unfortunate luxury of attending that ghastly Ministry affair with Harry. Although, I'm glad they can keep each other company tonight. She's quite popular, you know, so many young wizards looking to fill her dance card this evening. Especially with the dress she wore. Being with Harry should keep them at bay."
How the hell was he supposed to respond to that statement? Draco knew he was being baited and refused to bite. He contented himself with saying nothing and slowly sipping his drink.
"You haven't complimented my gown yet, Malfoy," Ginny said suddenly and stepped away to give him a little twirl, allowing Draco to eye her from head to toe.
"I do admit, it's quite fetching on you," he replied honestly. The sparkling silver material of the floor-length gown complemented her skin tone and hair color (not an easy feat with that shade of red), and the strapless, off the shoulder neckline left her toned arms, shoulders, and back on display.
"Thank you. If you think it looks good on me, you should see Hermione."
"Pardon?"
Ginny grinned like the kneazle that got the cream. "She's wearing this exact same dress tonight, but in a lovely gold hue instead. Only, she is blessed with more curves than myself, so I'm sure her cleavage will attract many a second look."
What the ever-loving fuck was she playing at?
"Are you always this crass about your friends, Weaselette?" he sneered with disdain but Ginny was unbothered.
"It's Potter, and not all of my friends are as gorgeous as Hermione." She shrugged and took a sip of her whisky. "Besides," she added conspiratorially, "can you just imagine the look she would give me if she'd heard me say that in front of her?"
Draco shared a wicked grin with his new drinking partner. He could imagine it all too easily. Granger's face would scrunch inward, lips pursed, before she would draw an impressive breath and launch into a tirade about society's expectations on witches to look and dress a certain way, all while completely ignoring the fact that she (probably, Draco imagined) looked beyond breathtaking in her fitted gown.
"Doesn't take much to get Granger to blush," Draco commented with a chuckle.
"Hmm, indeed. Do you make her blush often during your cozy coffee sessions?"
So this was her game: make Draco reveal his intentions. Granger had obviously confided in Ginny about their new friendship and she was here to test Draco. The younger version of himself would have made a derisive comment, insulted the She-Weasel about her inferior family, thrown in a jab at Potter for good measure, and then given her one last sneer before stalking off.
But he wasn't that person anymore. And while Potter's wife had definitely raised his hackles, Draco could tell her jeering question was coming from an instinct to protect Granger. He could respect her motives at least, even if her execution left something to be desired.
"As I'm sure Granger has told you, we do keep a regular morning meeting over coffee. No need to make a scandal out of something innocent," was his measured reply.
Ginny finished off her drink then placed her glass firmly on the bar and turned to Draco, all trace of teasing gone from her expression. "Look, Malfoy. I don't particularly like you, given the history between our families. I certainly don't trust you. But Hermione has decided you're worthy of a second chance, and she is not only the smartest person I know… she is the best person I know."
Ginny's eyes bored into his, pleading with him to understand something. "I owe her a debt I can never repay. Do you know how many times she kept Harry and Ron alive during that last year of the war? Not to mention all the bullshit they caused while we were at Hogwarts. I know that without her, my husband would not be alive today. So when I tell you that Hermione is like a sister to me, that she is family, I need you to know how serious that bond is. I know both of you are insistently throwing the 'just friends' line around for now, but listen here, Malfoy—" Her light brown eyes were aglow from a combination of earnest emotion and whisky.
"—my own brother didn't deserve her. I can't name a man alive that does. While I know she enjoys your company, I don't know if she's really thought through how the rest of our world would react to your… friendship."
The pariah and the heroine. The coward and the savior.
"Don't you think I know that Weasley? Why do you think our time together in public stays mostly within the confines of a Muggle café?" Draco spat bitterly and blamed the alcohol for the desperate tone of his revelation.
Ginny's eyes widened as she regarded him seriously for a moment. "It's Potter," she corrected him softly.
Before Draco could truly dissolve into a full-blown panic attack, his shoulder was jostled on his other side by a formidable upper arm.
"Sorry, some of us would like to get a drink before the New Year."
Praising all four Founders for this well-timed intrusion, Malfoy turned to find Maureen Tyler trying to get the bartender's attention.
"Good evening, Miss Tyler, enjoying the party?" he drawled politely. Maureen had also opted for a flattering Muggle gown, even if the robust muscles of her upper body looked like they were threatening to rip the top half of it in two.
"It's alright," she shrugged. "Heard your bosses sprung for the good tequila this year so I think I should see if the rumor is true." She tried and failed to flag down the bartender again.
Draco cleared his throat and shot a well-timed glare coupled with a crook of his fingers to get the staffer's attention. "Tequila, neat, and two Ogden's" he declared, noting Ginny's empty glass on his other side.
When the drinks were placed in front of him, he slid a firewhisky toward Ginny and heard a quiet "thank you," and slid the tequila toward Maureen, earning him a "cheers."
In his periphery, he noticed Ginny curiously eyeing Maureen's impressive biceps as the younger girl tipped back her glass of liquor. Maybe now he could kill two birds with one stone.
"Miss Tyler, have you met Ginny Weasley?"
Draco took a small amount of pleasure in the way the younger girl's eyes widened and she lowered her glass to the bar hastily. So it seemed Maureen was capable of being star-struck.
"Oh, uhh, no. Nice to meet you, I'm Maureen Tyler." She reached across Draco to shake Ginny's hand.
"Ginny Potter. Pleasure to meet you. Is this one recruiting you?" she jerked her head towards Draco.
Maureen smiled nervously while Draco silently encouraged her in his head. Come on Tyler, I set the quaffle in motion for you here, don't muck this up.
"No, I'm just a reserve beater for the Tornadoes," she replied modestly and Ginny scoffed.
"That's not just anything! I heard they finally brought on a female talent, how are you enjoying it?"
It was clear to Draco that Maureen Tyler did not possess the sort of cunning finesse she would need if she ever wanted to get off the bench. He would need to prod this along.
"Tyler here is the best Beater I've seen in years," Draco stated firmly and both women shot him looks of surprise.
"Is that right?" Ginny asked, her interest piqued, while Maureen quietly sputtered something humble.
"Hmm, I'd say so. Can you think of any teams that might be in need of such a player once the new season begins?" he asked pointedly. Ginny didn't respond, but Draco saw the understanding click behind her eyes and she turned back to Maureen, eager to chat.
Draco downed his drink in one, and prepared to take his leave for the night. "I'll bid you both a good evening then. Try not to waste any opportunities that fall your way."
He'd only made it a few feet away before he felt a grip on his upper arm. "Malfoy, wait." He turned to find Ginny giving him a serious look.
She dropped her grip on his arm. "What you just said to me? About not wasting opportunities? I think you should take that advice for yourself," she said quietly, shooting him one last meaningful look before rejoining Maureen at the bar.
Draco made it all the way to the coat-check before his hands started shaking. He made it all the way to the Floos before his breaths started coming faster. He made it all the way to his bedroom before his legs almost gave out.
Collapsing shakily on his bed, he gripped his head in his hands and tried to steady his breathing.
I am in control of this. I am in control of this. I am in control of this.
Damn Ginny Weasley and her ill-bred, crass mouth.
It was Monday morning and Draco was supposed to familiarize himself with a Scottish Chaser's goal statistics before a meeting that day. His eyes kept skimming over the first line of the report before his attention would be drawn across the café table. The shoulder of Hermione's work blouse kept sliding to the side as she scribbled furiously in one of her many notebooks. The fabric would slide down, exposing the skin of the top of her shoulder and one of her bra straps briefly before she absentmindedly tugged the blouse back into place. Draco averted his eyes to his report before the movement started right back up again, not one minute later. After several rounds of this, he had to say something, he couldn't take it anymore. "You should probably get rid of that blouse."
"Excuse me?"
"You've been fidgeting with it every 30 seconds, surely you own clothing that actually fits properly?"
"Well fine, if it's distracting you so much, I'll throw it out later!"
She had no idea, obviously, that it was driving him bloody mad, but he couldn't very well reach over and yank up the shoulder of her blouse. Because friends did not do that sort of thing for friends. And because he couldn't trust his fingers not to linger on the bare skin of her shoulder.
Ginny fucking Weasley and her smart mouth putting forbidden ideas in his head about Granger's body.
As most businesses did every year as the end of December crept nearer, the café was decked out in Christmas cheer. Draco sipped his coffee and watched the swirling snow outside, Muggles rushing about in their silly, puffy winter jackets, oversized boots, and fuzzy hats and scarves.
Once upon a time, the Christmas season was Draco's favorite time of year. The house elves would out-do themselves with all the extravagant puddings, chocolates, tarts, and pies at the end of every night's feast during the week. His family were always invited to the pureblood holiday balls, but then on New Year's Eve, every other party was glaringly outshined by the ball thrown at Malfoy Manor by Narcissa.
Draco could remember running about the ballroom with Theo, Crabbe, and Pansy, trying not to be too rambunctious and earn the ire of their elders, and thinking longingly of the future days when they would be old enough to indulge in the copious amounts of alcoholic beverages available.
Those days never came. The Dark Lord's return and subsequent residence in Malfoy Manor saw to that. No, now if you asked Draco, he'd say spring was his favorite time of year.
Granger, however, seemed fully invested in the holiday spirit, forgoing her usual masala chai in favor of some peppermint-chocolate concoction buried under a mountain of whipped cream. Draco had just reached for her cup across the table to steal his fifth sip when she lightly smacked his hand away.
"For goodness sake Malfoy, go get your own, you spoiled brat."
He gave her an exaggerated pout. "Oh come now, Granger, that's not in the Christmas spirit! What's that Muggle saying of yours? 'Piece of earth for good, willing men?'"
Hermione looked up from her notebook and laughed until she cried. Clutching her sides, she wiped away her tears of laughter, and Draco felt that curious warm feeling at having made her laugh so fully and freely.
"It's 'peace on earth and goodwill to all men.' Honestly, Malfoy, what is your interpretation even supposed to mean?"
Draco shrugged and smirked. "It means don't be so bloody stingy with the hot chocolate."
Hermione rolled her eyes and slid her cup towards him, laughing again at the way his eyes lit up.
"What are your plans over the holidays other than stealing sweets from your friends and mangling famous quotations?"
"You mean besides hearing the near-constant lecture from my mother about how I am still unwed with no heirs in sight?"
Hermione put down her pen and asked gently, "Do you even want to get married? Start a family?"
Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered his future. It had been years since his last serious relationship and from what he recalled, it had ended rather poorly. Drinking too much alcohol to find the strength to exist each day meant he probably hadn't been the best romantic partner, or any sort of partner.
"I mean… someday, I suppose. Just… not any time soon. Fucking hell, I can barely take care of myself right now, a spouse and children are out of the fucking question," he said bitterly.
Hermione gave him a quelling look. "You don't need to put yourself down like that all the time, Malfoy."
He frowned at her and shrugged so she would drop the subject. Her incessant need to build up his self-confidence was both invigorating and terrifying.
"I do know what you mean though. It's difficult to imagine taking care of a small human at this point in my life. There are so many life experiences and career goals I have yet to achieve and I'm not sure how a child or husband would fit in just now. Though you were perhaps too self-deprecating, I do understand what you were saying about feeling as if self-care still has to take priority. Wounds that still need healing."
Draco nodded thoughtfully. "It seems many of our generation feel the same." They shared a dark look and sad smiles at his statement. Though many of their Hogwarts peers had paired off or found serious relationships, children among their classmate couples were few so far.
"So," Hermione brightened back up. "Any exciting parties or traditions you're looking forward to?"
Draco shrugged. "Christmas is generally pretty quiet. My mother returned from France so I'll spend the holiday with her and try not to succumb to the urge to give myself a Stinging Jinx to the face while she shoves picture after picture of eligible witches under my nose."
Hermione laughed but was undeterred. "Come on, there has to be something you're looking forward to!"
"Mother's New Year's Eve ball is always quite the affair," he haltingly offered. His mother had revived her old party several years ago, and despite the shaky ground his family name stood on in some circles, invitations were highly coveted. Draco supposed his father's death had helped his mother's reputation in some regard.
"An extravagant ball attended by the expensively dressed and socially elite of wizarding society doesn't fill you with joy?" she asked, teasingly.
"Hard to be filled with joy in a room full of people you'd actively like to avoid, but Theo is confirmed to attend, thank Merlin."
"A lot of your other old friends planning to come?" Draco noted the hesitancy in her voice and knew what she really wanted to ask him. Will you be laughing it up with your old Slytherin friends? Tempted to revert back to your old blood purity ways?
"No one I really care to see," was his clipped reply and she took the hint to drop the subject.
"What about you?" he countered, eager to move away from discussing his family and former friends. Hermione's entire face lit up. "I have the same schedule every year!"
She ignored Draco's muttering of "Of course you do," and plowed on.
"I spend Christmas Eve at my parents, then on Christmas morning we exchange presents and make breakfast together. Then my parents attend Christmas mass at noon and I spend the rest of the day and Christmas dinner at The Burrow. I might stay most of the week there with everyone else, and then New Year's too, since George puts on these truly innovative fireworks displays every year. A lot of the charms on his products haven't usually been tested properly, I probably should have another word with him and Ron about it," she ended with a small frown.
"That sure is a lot of time with the Weasleys. Do your parents mind?"
Draco noticed a little of the light go out from her eyes when he mentioned her parents. Truthfully, he noticed that same reaction every time they discussed her biological family.
She heaved a sigh and Draco got the impression that she was finally going to confide in him about why the topic of her parents was taboo most days. "My relationship with my parents never really recovered after the war. Don't get me wrong, we speak often and I try to visit with them a few times a month, but there's an awkwardness that seems to permeate every conversation or interaction. Especially if I forget myself and use magic around them."
Draco wrinkled his brow in confusion. "I thought you said they were proud when they learned you were a witch? They don't want you using your magic?"
He couldn't think of a higher violation of her natural abilities than being asked to suppress such a core part of her. The brightest witch of their age, discouraged from being magical?
Hermione shook her head. "No, it's more of a trust issue. They're afraid of what my magic can do."
Draco barked out a laugh. "Afraid of you? You're the most honorable person on the planet, Granger, I don't see how Muggles should fear some dark deed coming from you!"
Hermione shot him a sad and guilty smile. "No, they've every right to be afraid."
Draco laughed again. "All right, confession time Granger. Did you hit them with a few Tickling Jinxes when you didn't get your way as a child?"
"No," she replied softly. "I obliviated them during the war. I made them forget they ever had a daughter, implanted new identities in their minds, and made them relocate to Australia. I couldn't let them be tortured for information on me or Harry."
His insides went cold and Draco felt the air being sucked out of the café. All he could do was stare into Hermione's brown eyes, unsure of how to process the weight of her confession. She held his gaze, and though she wasn't crying, there was an unfathomable sadness contained in her stare, as well as a kinship.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I know what it's like to perform an unspeakable task to protect family.
"Granger," he took a deep breath. "Granger, that was unbelievably… brave. You saved their lives." You saved them from unmentionable horrors, courtesy of people like my father. My family were monsters. I'm a monster.
"They came to understand that it was done to protect them, eventually. But I can still see it in their eyes. That mistrust. I can hear them thinking it, Malfoy. 'How could our own daughter violate our minds?'"
Draco was incensed on her behalf. "But don't they know about you? Don't they know everything you've done for our world? What you mean to wizardkind?"
Hermione gave him a wan smile. "You know, Ron and I used to ask Harry that question all the time about his family. Now, having experienced it all firsthand… I understand why it's easier to not bother. Of course, my parents know the gist of the war, since I obviously had to explain why it was necessary to hide them across the world. But how could I begin to describe a horcrux, or why it was so important to destroy multiple ones? How could I tell them what the Cruciatus Curse feels like, or why I was tortured? And that's why," she paused to catch her breath, "that's why I spend so much time with the Weasleys."
"Because they understand," Draco replied and she nodded.
"Molly and Arthur are the magical parents I never had. If I want to learn the best way to charm roasted potatoes without ruining them, I ask Molly. If I'm confused about the inner workings of a certain department in the Ministry, I ask Arthur. Even though Ron and I didn't work out, they still treat me like a daughter. I can confide in them, turn to them with my problems, and those conversations don't have to be prefaced with a detailed explanation of what a pain potion does or how portkeys operate."
This glimpse into her personal and family life meant more to Draco than he could properly articulate. What she shared with him added another dimension to the woman he was getting to know as one of his closest friends. Part of him also felt a twinge of guilt at the way he'd cruelly mocked the Weasleys when he was younger. But not Ron though, he was still a git as far as Draco was concerned.
They walked to work silently, Draco mulling over Hermione's story about her parents. "Granger," he said softly as they came to a stop in front of the Leaky Cauldron entrance. "I'm sorry… about your parents."
He swallowed nervously and continued. "I'm sorry if I ever said things to you… that made you feel discouraged from reaching your full, magical potential. You should never have to hide that part of you."
Hermione waved his apology away with an impatient hand. "We've had this conversation already, Malfoy. I already forgave you, and the situation with my parents had nothing to do with you."
"I know but, everything you've accomplished, all your achievements… well, they're bloody brilliant and I just thought that… someone in your life should remind you." Someone should tell you every damn day, Granger.
A/N: A conversation I had with myself: "How many chapters do we think this will be?" "Is 'I don't know, probably a f*ck-ton?' a number?" "It is not." "Damn."
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