Here is a chapter made of a helping of friendship, a dash of flashbacks, and a pinch of internal monologue. Enjoy and send good vibes for future chapters! It has been tough to find time to write. Nevertheless, I hope you all like this chapter as much as I liked writing it!
Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship
Emerging from the bath with a deep sigh, Hermione wrapped herself in a warm robe. While twisting her soaked mane in a towel she strolled into her room in search of comfortable clothes. Opening her wardrobe, she called out for her most favorite house elf.
"Ziggy?" she called.
With a loud pop by the small inset fireplace, she turned and beamed at the little elf. Ziggy was a small elf with large orb like eyes the color of marmalade framed with long lashes. An incredibly frilly pink top was draped on her small frame as a dress and a small beanie was propped precariously between her two large ears.
"How could I be of service Miss Hermione?", squeaked the little smiling elf.
"Could you bring a pot of jasmine tea and some lemon cookies please? Also you know you can just call me Hermione." she requested with a smile.
"Yes of course Miss Hermione!" Ziggy responded eagerly.
With that she popped out of the room and soon reappeared with a steaming pot of tea and a small plate of Hermione's favorite teatime treat.
"Thank you so much Ziggy, you are too good to me!" Hermione gushed.
The little elf blushed and happily twisted her hands in her little frock.
"I am always happy to serve you Miss Hermione!" and with a little wave Ziggy disappeared.
After deciding on a dark pair of jeans and a Sabrina the teenage witch tee layered with a cardigan, she looked in the mirror at a loss as to do with her increasingly unruly curls.
Not wanting to use a drying spell which almost always resulted in a rather rumpled poodle type texture of her hair, she squeezed as much water out and proceeded to braid a low side braid that carefully concealed the small scar on her neck. By the time she was finished she had a thick rope like braid tossed over her shoulder.
Reaching toward her bag, she removed the small jar of healing salve she had just made that morning. She carefully unscrewed the top and leaned toward the periwinkle balm to smell it. It still held a warm citrus and cedar scent. She had initially added the new ingredients for their potential healing properties but realized that the smell would complement her regular smell of her orange and cinnamon fragranced soap and bath oils. She carefully rubbed in a small amount of the balm into the scar on her neck and forearm.
Wanting to use the remaining time before dinner to read in front of the oversized fireplace in the common room, she grabbed a book from her overloaded bedside table and the tray with the tea and cookies and quietly exited her room.
At first glance, the common room seemed empty and quiet besides the soft continuous crackle of the hearth. As Hermione walked quietly toward the plush furniture facing the fire, she spotted a pale male foot propped over the armrest of the couch closest to the warmth of the flames.
Setting the tea set and cookies on the nearby side table she slyly peeked over the couch. Silently slumbering on the couch was none other than Draco Malfoy. His head was propped up on a large pillow with one arm casually tossed above while the other arm clutched an overly tasseled pillow to his chest. His long legs were sprawled haphazardly. One was straight with his foot draped over the armrest and the other was bent with his foot resting on the floor.
The front of his hair fell across his face and with his pale skin he seemed almost angelic. The rest of his hair was slightly mussed but due to its incredibly short length on the sides and back, the top was the only aspect that ever fell out of place. Unlike his early years of plastering back the white blonde hair like a small albino vampire he left the longer length hair on top flop unceremoniously in a casual way. He had never explicitly said but Hermione suspected that he intentionally had very different hair from his earlier years and even more so from the longer locks that were so inherently Lucius Malfoy.
It was strange looking down at the man that for years had been her bully and enemy. That had changed following the war. Well, she supposed it first began at his hesitation to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor but the major shifts happened the past summer before the term began.
After returning from Australia, Hermione took satisfaction in wandering the halls of Hogwarts. She spent her days assisting with reconstruction, delving into the texts of the thankfully undamaged library, and helping Madam Pomfrey by brew potions and learning minor healing spells for those who were still recovering from the war.
One day following dinner Hermione walked into the common room she considered her own and was shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing there looking a bit lost. Panicked and uncomfortable she quickly vacated to her room. Minerva informed her the following morning over breakfast that she granted Mr. Malfoy's request to be able to live in the castle similarly to Hermione. After reaching out to the headmistress to meet, Draco conveyed his discomfort and the hardship of residing in Malfoy Manor which had been so permeated with bloodshed and hate both during the war and by the twisted pureblood ideals trumpeted by his lineage. Hermione begrudgingly understood but still felt as if her safe haven had been compromised.
The following weeks were composed of uncomfortable and tense contact with the blonde. Words were never spoken but rather tense head nods in acknowledgement whenever they came across one another. Hermione could sense that their interactions were not wrought with animosity but rather neither knew how to behave around the other.
One night when Hermione was plagued by insomnia, she ventured into the common room with the hope that the hearth would provide her the solace needed to be lulled to sleep. This would not be the first or last time that she would potentially fall asleep in the spacious living room. Wrapped in her blanket she silently trudged to the couch closest to the fire. As she slumped into the couch, she realized that the other side was occupied.
Draco was hunched over with his elbows on his knees, hair concealing his face in a very Snape-like manner, with a bottle of fire whiskey in hand. Turning glassy grey eyes to her, he simply lifted the bottle to her in an offering. Clutching her blanket tight, she tentatively took the outstretched bottle.
Hermione, throwing caution to the wind, took a swig of the fiery liquid. The burn sliding down her throat was satisfying, and she looked up to see a smirk on Malfoys pointed face.
"So you have indulged before then Granger? I was wondering if the princess of Gryffindor had ever sullied herself with liquor." Draco stated while staring into the flames.
His answer should have irritated her, but it didn't. She considered ignoring him but without thinking quietly said, "It helps me forget."
At this Draco slowly turned to her with an understanding look.
"Take it from me Granger, it only works for so long."
He carefully took the bottle back to take another hefty swig. Beyond the lowered lighting of some sconces, the flames were the only light source in the cavernous room. The flames danced across Draco's sharp features highlighting his aristocratic cheeks and almost feminine pout. Gathering her courage, Hermione turned to him.
"Thank you for what you did that night." At her words, his head whipped up to look intensely into her brown eyes warmed even more by the light of the fire.
"You are thanking me?" he scoffed turning his gaze back to the flames.
"Granger you and you friends saved the world. I just kept silent. It was not the first time I held my tongue, but it was the only time that I felt it was the right thing to do." His gaze then met hers and she saw sincerity in his normally guarded expression.
"Thank you, Granger. Of course, everyone has said that for ending the war but specifically you provided the epiphany I needed to understand just exactly how fucked up the entire situation was."
This surprised her. Hermione had assumed that his change of heart had occurred when tasked with murdering Dumbledore and she stated as much. He cringed at the reference to the late headmaster and after a pull of fire whiskey he clarified.
"That night… the sounds made me realize the horror and frivolous nature of the war. Aunt Bella's laugh, your screams, Weasley's pleas… It made me realize the impact. Before that night I was so exhausted and resentful of the impact that involvement with the Dark Lord had on myself and my family that I could not see the bigger picture. That night, I heard the smartest and most courageous witch I knew being reduced to tears and screams because of nothing more than her blood status and her loyalty to her childhood friend. All caused by my relative in my childhood home." Looking up at Hermione's open look of shock, he rolled his eyes.
"Don't look so surprised Granger, of course I knew you were intelligent. It was part of what fueled my childish bullying of you in our early years. You were a constant reminder that I would never be good enough. No matter how much effort I put in, I was consistently second in the class. Keep in mind, according to my father that I idealized, I should not have had to put in any effort to be superior to you. But beyond your intellect, your unwavering courage and loyalty was something that I could not fathom and desperately envied as I became more immersed in the war. When I was dragged over to identify Potter that night all I could think was 'what would Granger do?' and that is what I did."
Hermione was shell shocked. She was at an utter loss of words and the only action she could do was to close her mouth that had fallen in surprise. He looked at her meekly through the curtain of white blonde hair. Meekly? Who was this man sitting in front of her? Because he sure as hell was not the arrogant and aggressive bully that she had grown up with.
Overcome with emotion, she threw herself toward the startled blonde and hugged him harder than was probably comfortable. After his initial astonishment, she felt Malfoy relax and wrap his long arms around her small frame.
After moments passed comforting one another he leaned his face into the crook of her neck and whispered, "I just want to move past this war and learn who I am. I just want to live." He drew in a shaky breath and continued. "Even though I struggle every day to forgive my sins, could you forgive me Hermione? Can we start new?"
Not trusting her voice due to the shock of his sincerity and use of her first name, she nodded her head. Finally breaking the embrace, she did not scoot away but rather sat directly next to him. Pulling the blanket from her shoulders she billowed it out until it settled across their laps. Taking the bottle back, Hermione drank deeply from it and turned a smirk toward Malfoy.
"Don't think for a second that this will make me any less driven to ensure that I am top of the class this year." He chuckled good naturedly and leaned back against the arm of the couch extended his arm across her shoulders.
"I would expect nothing less Granger. That will make it that much more satisfying when I end up on top."
Even though few words were exchanged for the rest of the night, they both took comfort in the closeness of the other. Both had found themselves displaced by the war and simply being able to sit peacefully together placated their minds. That's how they fell asleep that night: draped across the couch leaning against one another tangled in Hermione's blanket. It was the best sleep that either had gotten in weeks.
Following that night the rest of the summer resulted in their blossoming friendship. Unsurprisingly, they shared great conversation on a variety of academic topics, but it almost always took a competitive tone that varied from teasing to fiery. As the friendship grew, it began to take on a brother like feel similar to her relationships with Harry and Ron. However, rather than the familial bonds shared with the boys her bond to Draco was more that of an overly clever spoiled younger sibling. It made her sharing Hogwarts with the Slytherin continuously interesting and even more comforting knowing that she had a friend present.
Shaking her head from the memories, she looked down into his pale face as he slept sprawled on the couch before the fireplace. His angelic appearance was quickly shattered as a loud snore emerged from his now open mouth.
Snorting softly Hermione gently sat in the space next to his waist and reached toward his outstretched foot. Sporting a devilish smile, she tickled the arch of his foot and instantly grey eyes sprang open and he emitted a not so masculine squeal.
"Bloody Hell Granger! Must you torment me?" Draco spat accusingly through blurry eyes.
"Oh no you don't Draco Malfoy, you do not want me to start listing off your list of torments directed at me throughout the years!" she scolded good-naturedly in a very Molly Weasley tone.
He begrudgingly sat up while grumpily clutching the tasseled pillow until he spotted the tea and cookies. Hermione passed him a lemon cookie knowing his insatiable sweet tooth and laughed as he still tried to look put out while munching.
"You're lucky I do not need my beauty sleep otherwise I would be terribly put out with you." Draco mumbled through his cookie.
As Hermione lifted her cup of tea to her mouth Draco's pale hand snagged it and took a large gulp.
"Blech! Must you always insist on drinking tea that tastes like a bouquet? Just wear floral perfume like a normal witch if you like flower water so much!" Making a face he quickly gave the offending teacup back.
Smirking over her teacup after taking a long drink, Hermione taunted, "You act as if I do not remember your dislike of jasmine tea, why do you think I made sure to have it?"
Lightning fast, he hurled the tasseled pillow at her face. Quickly deflecting it, she snatched the plate of cookies out of his reach.
"Oy come on Granger, share!" he whined like a child rather than the man he was. Tauntingly eating a cookie ignored his pleas. Hermione made pointed eye contact until he finally broke.
"Ugh, fine! May I please have some cookies?" Malfoy grumbled while rolling his eyes.
She passed the plate over to him and his foul mood dissipated instantly. It was a miracle he was still so svelte considering his penchant for sweets. Hermione had become accustomed to appetites growing up around Ron but the sheer pleasure Malfoy garnered from sweets was rather childish yet endearing.
"So why are you napping so early in the day Draco? We haven't even gone to dinner yet?" Hermione inquired while happily sipping on her tea.
"I got stuck with Longbottom working on tasks for Sprout all morning and afternoon. We had to weed the entirety of greenhouse 3 by hand. I swear I felt as if I was serving detention and Longbottom couldn't be happier. He is barmy, I swear."
While dramatically lamenting on his labor he reclined on the couch, snacking with the entire platter of cookies propped on his chest.
Hermione shook her head. "Oh, the horror! You had to do manual labor? The audacity. Excuse me for not being sympathetic." She rolled her eyes.
"Easy for you to say! You got to stay inside in the nice cool dungeons brewing potions. I would much prefer that luxury." He pursed his lips. "You have no idea how long it took to get all of the muck off, and somehow I still managed to get dirt beneath my fingernails!"
Hermione could not help but laugh at his indignation. "And you call me a princess!"
As Hermione laughed at her prissy friend, he took aim with another pillow. This time the pillow did not miss.