I can't believe we've made it to chapter 3 and I'm still posting on-time. I hope you like long chapters because this one is LONG. 19 pages in Word! Thank you all for continuing to read my story, follow/favorite it, and leave reviews. They honestly make my whole day. I'm in graduate school at the moment, and having emails in my inbox that aren't school-related is the BEST.
In this chapter, we finally get some real Hermione/Draco interaction. Draco's stranded at the Granger's residence and Hermione has to put up with him. How much are they going to butt heads? Or will they actually get along? Let's find out, shall we?
Hermione eyed Malfoy out of the corner of her eye as he pushed his cornflakes around his bowl. After four full days of sitting in solitary confinement in the guest bedroom, Malfoy had finally emerged that morning. He now sat at the Granger's kitchen table in his black pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, his blonde hair mussed from his pillow.
Hermione was almost tempted to laugh at his disheveled appearance. She had certainly seen Ron and Harry in sleep-tousled states before, so she had a good idea of what teenage boys looked like in the morning. But she had to admit, there was something innately funny about duty-bound, pureblood, hair-slicked-back Draco Malfoy sitting next to her with sleep still in his eyes.
He seemed almost normal.
Malfoy looked up from his cereal bowl and glanced her way. Hermione quickly shifted her gaze back to her own breakfast. When Hermione woke up on the floor of Malfoy's bedroom yesterday morning, she found him already out of bed. In a panicked state, she had jumped to her feet and fled back to her bedroom. She heard the hall bathroom door swing open moments later. It wasn't until the door to the guest bedroom clicked shut once more that Hermione let out the breath she didn't even know she had been holding.
All yesterday Hermione had been checking on him. Twice, even, she had walked up to the solid wooden threshold, her fist drawn up to knock. The heavy silence on the other side of the door and the weight of her embarrassment kept her from following through. Hermione turned red just thinking about it. How could she have just fallen asleep next to Draco Malfoy? She certainly remembered running her hands through his hair as he whimpered in his sleep. It had been so soft…
Hermione wanted to melt into a puddle and disappear through the cracks in the floorboards when she thought about how she must have looked to Malfoy when he woke up to find her there.
Fast forward to this morning, Hermione flushed pink when her school enemy joined her family for breakfast. If and when Malfoy ever joined them, she had half expected her parents to treat him with coldness. After all, they had confronted her on her first day back, demanding answers. Why was the bully Hermione had complained about for years suddenly a guest in their home? Was she all right with it? Why was she picked to watch him and not an actual adult? Did she have an out if she needed it?
Hermione had spent the next hour explaining why she had chosen to trust Malfoy, and after a while, she wasn't sure if she was convincing her parents or herself. Yes, Malfoy was a horrible person, but no, he wasn't evil. Yes, he had tormented her, but shouldn't people be offered second chances? And she reminded them that watching a low-level Death Eater with no wand, no clue how to survive in the muggle world, and nowhere safe to go wasn't exactly a danger or a flight risk.
Her parents weren't necessarily happy with the answers, but they had accepted them. They had consequently filled her in on the rushed visit from a member of the Order of the Phoenix before her arrival. By their description, it sounded like it might have been Kingsley Shacklebolt. He had performed several enchantments and informed them that he and other Order members would check in regularly but would not make contact unless necessary.
The whole conversation had seemed to appease her parents, but she wasn't sure what their approach would be to Malfoy. Hell, she still wasn't sure what she would say to him, even sitting across from him at the breakfast table. But to Hermione's great surprise, Mum had practically fawned over him, offering him the entire contents of their refrigerator and cupboards.
She had knelt down to his level, one arm on the back of his chair. "I'll make anything you want, dear. Just tell me what sounds good and I can try and make it happen." Mum, it seemed, had taken her daughter's words to heart, and was definitely worrying over their houseguest. Malfoy sat in silence for a moment. Hermione groaned internally. Was he going to sit in sullen silence all summer?
But then he surprised all three Grangers by mumbling, "I'll have whatever Gran…Hermione's having." Malfoy glanced nervously at Hermione and she gave him the smallest nod of encouragement.
So there they sat, eating their cereal at the kitchen table. Dad and Mum both read the paper, commenting on news stories to each other.
It occurred to Hermione that her parents were trying to give the two of them the opportunity to chat. Clearing her throat, she decided to take a stab at conversation.
"So, uh, I was going to ride my bicycle down to the park today. I haven't gone out since we got back and we have, erm, permission to be in the neighborhood. Did you want to join me?"
Merlin, this was awkward.
Malfoy finished chewing and swallowing the bite he had just put into his mouth.
"Bicycle?"
Hermione noted that her parents' eyes had stopped looking down at the paper and were now focused on the blond boy sitting next to her.
"Erm, yes. It's a vehicle on two wheels. You use pedals to make it go and you can actually go pretty fast once you get the hang of it. Not as fast as a broom, of course, but it's fun."
Before Malfoy had a chance to respond, Dad piped up.
"Draco here can borrow my bike. It should be the right size." The elder Granger raised his eyebrows at Malfoy in expectation, clearly looking for a positive response. Dad clearly wasn't going to dote on Malfoy like Mum was, but he seemed to be giving him a chance.
With a great heaving sigh, Malfoy grimaced. "Sure. This bicycle thing sounds better than sitting in that damn room all day."
Hermione was about to snap a response, but her dad beat her to the punch. "Fantastic! Let me dig the bike out of the garage before we head into the clinic. Don't forget helmets, you two."
"OK, Dad," Hermione answered automatically, placing her spoon into her now-empty bowl. Noticing Malfoy had also finished, she motioned for him to follow her. At the sink, she took his bowl from him, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher.
"What's that thing?" Malfoy asked, the disapproving tone in his voice tinged with curiosity.
"It's called a dishwasher. When it's full we can put soap in here-" she indicated the pocket in the door "-and close the door. Then we just push a button and the machine washes and dries all the dishes in about an hour."
"It takes an hour?" he scoffed. "House elves could finish all that in five minutes."
Hermione pushed her annoyance down. "Well, Malfoy, we don't have a house elf. So you'll just have to get used to putting your dishes in here while you're staying."
"Whatever."
Without another word, Malfoy turned to go back upstairs. Hermione frowned. This was definitely not the Malfoy she was used to. The fire he usually carried with him seemed to be dulled, and for some reason, that made Hermione uneasy. Either he was going to explode on her one of these days or something was seriously wrong.
Hermione wasn't sure she liked either answer.
Hermione threw on some shorts and a T-shirt and took the stairs back down to the sitting room two at a time. She was just sliding her feet into her trainers as Malfoy made his appearance. Hermione gawked at him.
"Why are you so dressed up, Malfoy?"
He was wearing black slacks and a white button up shirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows.
Malfoy gave himself a once over. "What's wrong with this?"
"We're just going to the park. Do you have anything more casual?"
"Of course not. Malfoys don't do casual." Malfoy spat the last word out like it tasted nasty.
"Well if you don't want to stick out like a sore thumb on a hot July day, we should find you something casual." Hermione purposely overemphasized the last word, jogging past Malfoy and back upstairs. She turned to her room and began rummaging in her trunk. Malfoy followed her and stepped into her bedroom.
"So…this is where the great Granger grew up?" Malfoy posed, leaning to get a good look at some photographs on top of her dresser.
"It is. Not very exciting, but it's cozy."
"Is this you, Granger?" Malfoy asked, motioning toward the framed photograph of a happy baby.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see what Malfoy was asking about. "Yeah, it is. I think I was about a year old in that photo."
He appraised the photo for a moment.
"You were an ugly baby, Granger."
There he was. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued rummaging in her trunk. After a moment, she emerged triumphant.
"Aha!" she raised the items above her head and brandished them at Malfoy. He eyed the items in her hands with confusion. "They're Harry's shorts and T-shirt."
"What in Merlin's name were they doing in your trunk? Something you're not telling the rest of us about you and Potty?" Malfoy waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh, honestly," Hermione folded her arms. "I keep extra clothes for both Ron and Harry in my trunk. They have a tendency to leave their washing to the last minute. We had an unfortunate incident in third year where they ran out of clothes and had to wear the same stinky shirts and trousers for four days. I'm sure you know there's only so much scourgify can do. These are just a backup."
Malfoy let out a bark-like laugh. "Why does that not surprise me about Potty and Weasel?"
Hermione couldn't help but smile, herself. "Well, they're teenage boys."
Malfoy feigned offense, his hand on his chest. "I'm a teenage boy, Granger. I assure you, I would never do that."
"Fair. Maybe you're the exception. In any case, go put these on. They'll fit you better than Ron's clothes."
Malfoy reluctantly accepted the bundle and headed back to his room, and Hermione heard him mumbling something about 'Potter's hand-me-downs'. Three minutes later, he stepped into the hallway wearing brown cargo shorts and a blue ringer T-shirt. Though he looked a bit uncomfortable, he looked much less out-of-place.
"Much better," Hemione praised, heading back downstairs. "Let's go to the garage. Dad said he would get out our bikes." Malfoy followed as they walked out the front door where, just as promised, two bicycles sat parked with helmets hanging on the handlebars.
Hermione walked over to her purple bicycle, fastening the matching helmet under her chin. Malfoy watched and copied with his own forest green helmet.
Hermione offered a small smile and swung her leg over her bike. "Ready?"
She watched as Malfoy fumbled onto the seat of his silver bicycle, uncertainty etched on his features. Hermione's smile widened a bit. He was almost cute when he wasn't being so arrogant. "Do you know how to ride a bike?" she asked.
"Of course not. This is a silly muggle thing." He was clearly trying to come across as confident but his shaky voice gave him away.
"Here, let me help." Hermione climbed off her bike and kicked the stand into place. She gave Malfoy a quick rundown of the mechanics. He listened intently, nodding in all the right places. Hermione made a mental note that Malfoy was already a better student than Ron or Harry. But then again, she knew that already. Malfoy's marks were second only to hers in their year.
Her explanation finished, she told Malfoy to get into position. With a little push, Malfoy traveled forward a few feet before wobbling a bit and falling over.
"Fuck!" he cried as he tumbled. "Dammit, Granger, what the hell is this thing?"
Hermione stifled a laugh and offered her hand. Malfoy knocked it away and pulled himself up, scowling.
"You just need practice. See?" She sat back on her bike and took off down the street, turning around and stopping in front of Malfoy. He looked a little incredulous, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. If only Hermione could capture that expression. Surely, it was a rare sight.
"You're good at flying. Surely you can manage to balance on two wheels," she spoke encouraging words as she stood beside him again. Malfoy positioned himself on the bike again. "Here, let me help."
Without thinking too much about it, Hermione reached around Malfoy's back and grasped both handlebars, just like Dad had done for her when she was learning. She could feel his solid back muscles through Harry's well-worn shirt; years of Quidditch had clearly left him lean and strong. She had never been this close to Draco Malfoy in her life, so she was shocked to find he smelled…attractive? She shivered. If Harry and Ron could see her now, arm around Malfoy and smelling him, they might pass out.
Right, not thinking too much about it.
"You just focus on pedaling and I'll keep you from falling over."
Malfoy glanced at her and turned away quickly, his eyes focused forward. "Just go." Hermione began to walk forward, her gaze switching between the path ahead and Malfoy's feet.
"Good! Good job, Malfoy. I think you've got it!" Halfway down the street, Hermione let go. The bike continued with perfect balance. Malfoy's straightened bike told her that he was gaining confidence. "Try to turn!" she called out. With surprising smoothness, the bike circled around and headed back. As Malfoy drew nearer, she saw the hint of a smile behind his concentration. "Stop pedaling to slow and pedal backwards gently to stop. Gently!" Malfoy came to an abrupt stop a foot in front of her. On his face was the biggest grin she had ever seen him wear.
She grinned back. "That was brilliant, you know. For a first time."
Malfoy coughed as he tried to return his face back to nonchalant.
"So are we riding to this park or not?" he demanded.
"Yeah, yeah. All right. Hang on." She swung her leg over the bicycle again and the two took off. Malfoy was still a little unsteady, so Hermione kept her pace slow. They rode in silence past Hermione's childhood neighborhood. Her old classmates still probably lived in many of these houses, though she hadn't spoken to any of them in years. Whenever she had returned home in the past, she had either endured awkward forced interactions because of her parents or had avoided seeing old classmates on purpose. Her Hogwarts friends certainly hadn't visited her here. It struck Hermione as odd that the first real magical company she had at home was Draco Malfoy, of all people.
They arrived at the park after twenty minutes or so, and Hermione hopped off and unsnapped her helmet, walking the bike to the playpark near the entrance. Malfoy followed suit and joined her as she sat on the swings.
After a moment, Malfoy spoke. "So is this what you do around here for fun, Granger? These bicycle things and sitting? No wonder you're a bore."
Hermione dragged her feet in the mulch as she began to rock back and forth. "Gee, thanks for the compliment, Malfoy. Frankly, my life around here isn't too exciting. You're right about that. But I don't think McGonagall assigned you to stay with me because life here is exciting."
Malfoy shrugged. "True. But it couldn't hurt to at least have a small Quidditch pitch nearby."
"You know as well as I do that's impossible in this neighborhood."
"Stupid muggles," he sighed. "Speaking of McGonagall, did she tell you anything about when they're going to place me?" Malfoy looked over at her from his swing.
"I'm not sure at all."
They sat in silence for another minute. Hermione listened to the sounds of the neighborhood – passing cars, children laughing, lawnmowers buzzing – and began to think about the predicament weighing on the back of her mind for the past couple days.
McGonagall had insisted they would be safe at her parents' house, but she wasn't so sure. Nowhere was guaranteed to be safe these days, and Hermione worried about the security of their location, Order check-ins and enchantments or not. If Death Eaters discovered where Hermione's family lived, she was concerned that the wards around the neighborhood wouldn't last. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she, Harry, and Ron became wanted fugitives when they sent of hunting for horcruxes, and her parents might be targeted by Death Eaters. The thought of her parents being held hostage or being tortured for information had been at the forefront of her mind for the past few days.
All that thinking had led her nearer to the conclusion she dreaded: if her family were to emerge from this war whole, her parents couldn't remain here in London. The thought pained her, but Hermione prided herself on her logical side. She had to send them away. Certainly, they wouldn't go if she just asked, and she didn't want to cause them undue worry by telling them her true plans for the immediate future.
That meant she would have to move them without them realizing the extent of their actions. The only way she could think to do this was through memory manipulation, but the thought of Obliviating her parents her absolutely crushed her heart. She would give it some more thought over the coming days before she she reached a final decision.
Hermione looked over at Malfoy, who also appeared to be lost in thought. If these wards weren't as strong as McGonagall had insisted, she might have to execute her vague plan soon. That meant that her Slytherin nemesis was along for the ride, whether she liked it or not. Granted, he hadn't been nearly as bad as she had initially thought. Malfoy had actually been smiling and making conversation. Sparingly, of course, but it was far better than the venom he usually spat at her.
Who was Draco Malfoy, really? What kind of person was he beneath his tough exterior? Thoughts of his sleeping face filled her memory and she shook her head as though trying to rid the thoughts from her mind like an etch-a-sketch.
Hermione stood and straddled the swing, facing the blond boy. The motion seemed to snap Malfoy out of his thoughts.
"You want something, Granger?"
"Not really." Hermione paused for a moment. "Just trying to figure you out, I guess."
Malfoy chuckled. "Good luck with that. I think you'll find that I'm a very complex person."
"All the more interesting for me, then." Hermione flashed him a smile. Malfoy's mouth twitched upward in response. They fell silent again. The atmosphere was oddly relaxed as the summer sun caressed their skin. Dancing on the edges of her hearing, a familiar tinkling of music grew steadily closer.
"Fancy some ice cream?" she asked, standing and stretching.
"Is there a shop around here?" Malfoy copied his classmate and stood.
"Nah. Even better. Come on, then. Grab your bike." Hermione clicked her helmet into place and climbed back onto the bike with Malfoy following in her footsteps. She sped down the road toward the source of the tinkling music.
"What is that infernal song? It keeps repeating and it's dead annoying," Malfoy yelled from behind.
Hermione rolled her eyes and shouted back, "Hurry up or we'll miss it!"
"What the hell does this have to do with ice cream?" Malfoy was really worked up now, it seemed. His words were coming out choppy in between panting breaths.
"You'll see! We're nearly there – ah, yes!" Hermione spotted the yellow ice cream van and waved her hand to flag the driver down. The van slowed and stopped, allowing the two teens to catch up.
Hermione ditched her bike on the sidewalk and walked over to the window, motioning Malfoy to follow her. As he drew closer, Malfoy's expression grew more and more confused.
"It's an ice cream van," Hermione offered as explanation. "Take a look at the pictures and tell the man what you want. I'll pay."
Eyebrows higher than she had ever seen on him, Malfoy examined the various pops and cones available. She watched his eyes dart all around. His eyebrows furrowed more with each passing second. Seeing Malfoy so confused with muggle life, Hermione bounced between amusement and vindication. Catching herself, she squashed down the latter feelings.
"Need help? What kind of sweets do you like? Fruit? Chocolate? Vanilla?"
"Chocolate, I guess. Just no fruit."
Nodding, Hermione turned to the van driver and ordered two Magnum bars. She paid the man and handed Malfoy his ice cream. The two teens retreated back to the shade of a nearby tree, ripping the packaging (Malfoy doing so only after watching Hermione) and digging into their ice cream bars.
"This isn't half bad for muggle food, Granger," Malfoy said between bites.
"It's my favorite. Don't tell my parents, though. They don't like me eating sweets."
Malfoy smirked. "Acting naughty, are we?" Something about the glint in Malfoy's eyes made her look away and blush. "But seriously, Granger, if this is the sort of secret you keep from your parents then you really are a goodie-two-shoes."
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled. They returned back to a silence that Hermione was finding more and more companionable. Finishing up their ice cream bars, Hermione took both the popsicle sticks and wrappers and chucked them in the nearby rubbish bin. Turning back to Malfoy, he caught her eye and grinned in amusement.
"What is it?"
"It's your face."
Hermione frowned. "Why? What's wrong with my face?"
Malfoy laughed out loud. "I could throw so many excellent insults out with that question, you know. But I'm feeling generous today. I'll tell you straight up – you've got chocolate on your chin, Granger."
Hermione squeaked and wiped her chin as her companion continued laughing at her. She knew that she should feel annoyed, but for some reason, she found herself laughing as well.
"Let's go home. I can make us some sandwiches."
"Yeah, all right."
Malfoy righted his bike and took off down the street with Hermione just behind him.
The next three days followed a similar pattern. The two of them would ride their bikes around the neighborhood, sometimes to the park where they would sit together quietly and sometimes into the nearby shops to look around. Granger helped him select a few other summer-friendly muggle clothes, which her parents had insisted on paying for. He had been mortified at the prospect of muggles taking care of him financially and it had taken over an hour of convincing for him to cave. Even then, he only let them do it because he wanted them to stop nagging him.
Mortification aside, Draco was nothing short of shocked at how much he was enjoying himself. After the state he had been in mere days ago, to find himself smiling was nothing short of a miracle, frankly. Granger's parents had welcomed him into their home without question and had treated him as though he were their own son. They spoke to him with respect and kindness, which was more than they could say of him. Granger's dad liked to ruffle his hair in the mornings and tell corny jokes – mostly about teeth. Dr. Granger couldn't have been more of an opposite of his own father. Her mum exuded warmth, hugging him a little more than he found comfortable. His own mother, while caring, certainly couldn't be described as warm.
But what intrigued him the most about Granger's family was how much they took an interest in each other. Granger asked her parents about their work every night at supper, and in turn, her parents actively listened to Granger's thoughts on various matters. It was a give-and-take dynamic he had never seen before; not in his or any other pureblood household he had visited growing up.
If this was some muggle thing, Draco was almost ashamed to admit that he liked it. He liked living with the Grangers. Even the swotty, bushy-maned Granger girl was growing on him and he hated himself for it. Back at Hogwarts, he had been so focused on his innate dislike of her that he had never actually stopped to pay attention to her better qualities. She was certainly smart, but everyone within earshot of her knew that. She was also patient with him and was nice to him, even when he was being a bastard. Which was often.
She also smiled at him a lot. As much as he hated to admit it, Granger had a nice smile. When had her teeth gotten to be normal size? He had never noticed. He had also certainly never noticed her arse before. It was almost impossible not to when she was wearing those tiny things she called shorts. Hogwarts robes were notorious for hiding students' true assets, but Draco would have never imagined that beneath her heavy woolen robe and knee-length skirt she was hiding such a gorgeous body.
She may have been muggleborn and a swot, but he was still a 17-year-old boy.
On that third day, Draco and Granger found themselves at the park once more, bikes abandoned nearby. Draco watched from a stationary swing as Granger propelled herself upward on the swing to his left, her mane of curls flying to and fro. A smile radiated across her face. Draco's own mouth twitched with both amusement and jealousy. That Hermione Granger, an infernal bookworm and Gryffindor princess about to enter a war, could smile so freely made him quite envious. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that.
Draco watched as she swung higher and higher. Her eyes darted about as she flew level with the top bar. It was as though she was looking for something. Then, after a significant look in his direction, Granger let out a shriek as she let go of the swing entirely.
Draco stood as she launched herself upward, his eyes wide. Was she insane? If she went and broke her neck, he wasn't allowed to use magic to heal her. Stupid girl. But his fretting was for nothing, it seemed.
Instead of flying aimlessly and dangerously through the air, Granger floated down with grace, delight etched on her face.
"Are you mad?" Draco demanded, stomping onto the grass where she landed. "This place is crawling with muggles and you're floating about like we're at Hogwarts!"
"I looked about before I jumped, Malfoy. No one's on this side of the park." In the most infuriating way possible, Granger had the gall to roll her eyes at him and then stretch out her stupidly long legs and lie down in the grass. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After a moment just standing there like an idiot watching her, Granger cracked one eye open and lifted her head an inch up. "Grass is plenty comfy if you like," she spoke to the air, patting the ground to her side. Draco's eyebrow twitched. It was his turn to look around. His mind jumped to the possibility that some of his Slytherin housemates might be lurking behind a tree, waiting to call him out for lying on the ground beside the infamous mudbl – no, muggleborn Granger. But that was ridiculous.
With a great sigh, Draco joined her on the ground. They lay together side by side. Draco kept waiting for Granger to say something, but when he turned to face her, she had her eyes closed once more, a blissful smile painted on her features. Draco pondered this girl, whom he had never bothered to really examine closely before. The homely nature she had possessed as a child had faded into subtle beauty. While nothing like the alabaster glory of the pureblood girls he had known since childhood, Granger's prettiness was simple and understated. The light dusting of freckles over her nose was close enough to count. Draco was almost tempted. Was this a view Potter and Weasley often had? Did she often lie in the grass with her two idiot best friends? The thought left a sour feeling in his stomach that he willed himself to ignore.
"It's nice, isn't it?"
Draco jumped. Granger's eyes hadn't opened, but she had definitely spoken.
"What's nice?" he drawled, expecting her to say something dull like the weather.
"Being near each other and not wanting to hex each other."
Granger turned to him and flashed him a smile and he felt himself return one.
"Speak for yourself, Granger. I could always shoot Densaugeo your way again."
The smile fell off her face.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Wouldn't I?" He raised a single eyebrow and smirked.
He watched with near-glee as her face faded from shock to fear to sudden triumph.
"Well even if you wanted to, I've still got your wand and mine is warded against you. Looks as though you're out of luck, Malfoy."
"So it would seem."
Granger had barely begun to take a breath when a shadow crossed over their bodies. Malfoy looked up and Granger moved onto her elbows, shading her eyes.
"Hermione? Hermione Granger? Is that you?" a masculine voice asked from above.
Draco saw Granger grip her bag out of the corner of his eye. Certainly, she was preparing to draw her wand if necessary.
"And if it is?" she jumped to her feet.
"It's Simon. Simon Hanford. From primary school? I recognized your hair. Haven't seen you for ages."
Draco stood as well and looked Simon up and down. He had sandy hair stood just short of his own stature. This bloke didn't seem too intimidating. Draco watched as Granger smiled shyly at this newcomer.
"Of course I remember you, Simon. You sat behind me in nearly every class. Our surnames were so close. They always paired us off together. I seem to remember you not being too talkative."
Simon grinned. "Right. Well, I was a bit shy then. But you were always nice to me. I don't recall you talking too much either."
"That's quite the lie," Granger huffed indignantly. "I spoke in class all the time."
"Yeah, to the teacher to answer a question. But rarely to one of us."
Draco chuckled. "Her head was always in a book, was it?" he suggested, smirking.
Simon eyed him. "Too right, it was. You Hermione's boyfriend, then?"
The smile fell off Draco's face and he raised his eyebrows. "Absolutely not." His reaction must have been too strong for this context, because Granger immediately cut in.
"We're classmates from school. You know me – too busy studying to think about dating."
Simon nodded, seemingly amused, and slid his hands into his pockets.
"School, eh? That's right. You didn't go to the local one. Your parents shipped you off to some fancy boarding school with all those wealthy old families. Never pictured you as a private school sort, myself. All the others in our class – they wondered where you'd gone when we all got to secondary. It's like you just disappeared."
Draco watched the gears turn in Granger's head.
"Well…school was far away and very rural. Post took ages to arrive or send out, and I wanted to focus on making new friends, so eleven-year-old me never bothered to write."
"Still," Simon pushed, "You could've come 'round in the summer."
Granger shuffled her feet and shrugged. "Summer felt too short to do much else other than spend time with my parents." Draco frowned. There was no way that was true. Her parents were gone at work most of the day and gave her free reign. Surely, if she had wanted to, she would have met up with old friends.
"S'all right. Listen, me and the lads were just headed to the pool for a swim if you wanted to join. You'd recognize them – Craig Spencer, Robert Adams, and Nicholas Messal are all there. They'd get a real kick out of seeing Hermione Granger all grown up." Simon shot a grin at Granger that she did not return. Instead, her face turned red.
"Craig, Robert, and Nicholas? You do realize those are the boys who made my life a veritable hell all through primary, don't you?" Granger's nostrils flared, her teeth ground together, and she looked every bit the terrifying witch who had punched him square in the nose third year.
"Well, yeah, but they've come around. They're all right blokes now – real mature. We're getting ready for our A-levels next year and everything."
Draco watched as Granger swallowed her anger and held her head high in the greatest decorum she could muster and clear her throat.
"As nice as it was to see you again, Simon, I must decline. You were the only one in our primary classes who was even halfway decent to me. I've found a far closer group of friends in boarding school, including Draco here-"
Draco raised his eyebrows at hearing his own name counted among friends.
"-and really have no desire to spend time with that lot. I hope you have fun, though."
Surprise etched on his face, Simon gave a half-hearted wave and said goodbye before trotting off toward the other side of the park.
"What they hell was that about, Granger?" Draco turned to see his female companion sitting back on the ground, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her jaw seemed tense and her eyes were red. A strange feeling welled up inside him, and he found himself sitting beside her. "Granger, are you all right?"
"I never had friends before I came to Hogwarts, you know. Other students just thought I was odd from the time we were in nursery." She did the thing Draco had been dreading and wiped a stray tear from her reddened cheek. Unsure of whether he should comfort her or not, he sat stock still at her side.
"Simon – he – well, he was all right. But those other boys he mentioned, they were unspeakably horrid to me for years. Called me names, spread rumors about me, played mean-spirited pranks on me." She paused, looking at him briefly. "Not unlike you, Malfoy."
Suddenly, his shoes were undeniably the most interesting thing in sight.
After a moment's silence, he spoke. "Why can you sit and talk to me and not those blokes if we both were horrid?"
"Were?" Granger eyed him.
"Fine, are."
Granger smirked and lay back down on the grass. Draco rolled his eyes and joined her.
"Because back then, I had no one. Primary school was intensely lonely for me, and I think meeting those boys would bring back some of that lonely feeling. That's why I'm so grateful that now I have Ron and Harry."
Draco could practically hear the smile in her voice. He much preferred it to her tears.
"They've been by my side since first year. Ron even vomited slugs on my behalf when you tried to hurt me. The reason I can talk to you without feeling awful is because I know they'll love me even if you hex my teeth to gargantuan size again."
"As much as I loathe Potty and the Weasel, they're good friends to you. Even swots like you deserve friends, I suppose."
"Why, Draco Malfoy, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." She flashed a grin at him, and to his horror, he felt his stomach swoop.
"In fact, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to anyone."
He scowled back at her.
They laid together under the summer sun for another hour, chatting about funny stories from their respective houses. He told Granger about the time during third year when Crabbe had sucked on the end of his quill so much that he and Blaise Zabini had decided to make it explode in his mouth. His tongue had turned black for a week. In turn, she told him about some of the funnier pranks the Weasley twins had pulled in Gryffindor tower, including a time when they had charmed a mirror to follow their older brother Percy around for several days, repeating everything he said in their mother's voice.
He was honestly dumbfounded to see she had a sense of humor, given all he had ever seen was her obnoxious, brown-nosing side. A pretty face, a sense of humor, and a great arse? He had to watch himself, or this asylum could turn on him quickly.
That's why, when he awoke suddenly in the middle of that night with her face inches away from his own, her fingers laced in his hair, he was caught between horror and delight.
"What the hell, Granger? Is this your new habit? Sneaking into my room in the night to watch me sleep?"
Granger scowled for a moment and sat down on the edge of his bed, forcing Draco to scoot over. It was only as he moved that he realized he was drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His heart was pounding, and his voice had come out thick. What was going on?
"I came over because you were crying in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were all right," Granger offered. She extended a handkerchief to him and he snatched it from her fingers, turning away to wipe his face. Of course she would carry a bloody handkerchief with her in the middle of the night. He dabbed at his face.
Damn. She had seen him crying. This was exactly what he had wanted to prevent.
"It's all right to cry, you know. You've been through a lot in the last week. Well, no-" Draco heard her voice tremble. "-you've been through a lot in the last year, haven't you?"
He turned back, searching for her face in the blue moonlight. Granger looked right at him, sincerity etched in every feature. Before he realized it, she had reached for his hand and grasped it in her own.
"I'm can be here for you, you know. As a friend." She squeezed his hand. "I figure you could use a friend right now."
Draco looked down at their interlocked hands. Why wasn't he ripping is hand away?
'Because no one has ever looked at you like that before' a voice in his head whispered.
This was Granger. This was Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire.
'But you've seen her now. Really seen her. Do you still believe that shit?'
Draco moved his gaze back up to Granger, who was eyeing him with concern, her sweet mouth turned downward.
'No, you don't.' the voice provided.
Draco squeezed her hand back and her smile grew wider. After a moment, though, she faltered. There was an unmistakable sadness in her eyes. Fighting every Slytherin instinct he possessed that was telling him to mind his own business and keep his head down, he cleared his throat.
"Well if we really are going to be friends, do you want to tell me what's going on with you? I can see right through that smile, Granger."
Her jaw dropped. She let go of his hand and began to fidget.
"Malfoy, I-"
"And sit more comfortably while you're at it," he added, moving further over on the mattress and indicating the spot next to him. Merlin, what was he doing? Was he turning into a Gryffindor? Acting before thinking? Or worse, a bloody soft Hufflepuff?
She obliged, swinging her long legs onto the bed and leaning against the headboard beside him. Staring straight ahead, she took a deep breath and spoke.
"I have to tell you something, Malfoy." His ears perked up. "I…I don't know how much longer you and I will be here."
"Have you heard from McGonagall, then?" Malfoy felt an unexpected twinge of sadness at the thought. He wasn't ready to leave the Granger's house yet. Not when he finally was beginning to feel at peace.
"No, I haven't. This is coming from me."
Draco frowned. "Why wouldn't we be here anymore?"
"I've been thinking that it's time to take this fight into my own hands." She looked directly at him. "There's a war coming for us. We both know it. I'm relieved that you'll be safe under protection, but-" her voice faltered, and Draco saw tears welling in her eyes. Oh no. He did not do well with other peoples' tears. She had already gotten emotional earlier today, but that had just been for a moment. This looked like it might be more.
'Stupid! Pay attention to her,' the voice returned.
"-but with my involvement in the war, I'm scared for my parents." She managed to get the words out before her face crumpled and a great sob wracked her body. Draco felt his heart clench as he realized what she had been thinking. He knew all too well the fear that his own actions would have dire consequences for his family. Granger gathered herself after a moment. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand like a small child.
"Sorry," she mumbled, "Just being silly."
Draco chuckled. "What's that you just said to me? It's all right to cry, you know. I understand being scared for your parents, actually." Draco found words spilling out of his mouth, unsure why he was speaking them. He never spoke of personal things to anyone, but for some reason, he felt Granger was the right person to tell them to. "You saw the pensieve, didn't you? I spent the last year terrified of fucking up. He threatened to kill my parents if I didn't cooperate."
Draco figured she didn't need any clues to figure out who he was.
"Now that I've officially failed my mission, I have no way of knowing what's happened to my parents. They could be dead for all I know. Or tortured to insanity like Longbottom's parents."
Draco curled his knees up to his chin and looked forward toward the bedroom window.
"Not knowing is driving me spare. Granted, being here – being out of the loop – it's been like drinking a glass of water after a drought. I haven't been this close to contentment in a long time. I can't remember, really. But every time I feel myself smiling or forgetting all of the things I've done – all the awful things I've done –" Draco stopped himself, turning his head away from Granger. He couldn't bear to look at her. "– I remember that he's still holding all the strings. It feels as though even if I drink a hundred glasses of water, I'll still be thirsty. It feels as though I'll never be free of this."
Draco indicated his left forearm, where the Dark Mark shone against his pale skin in the darkness.
"It still burns, you know," he whispered.
Draco half expected Granger to react in disgust to the Mark – to flinch at the reminder that he was practically a monster. He tried to pretend that didn't bother him.
Draco felt a small pressure behind him. Granger had placed her hand on his lower back. She rearranged herself to sit in front of him. When he looked up, Granger was practically in front of his nose.
She took his left arm into her palms and traced the Dark Mark with her fingers. Her touch was so light, it almost felt like a feather fluttering against his skin. She studied the mark with intensity for a full minute before raising her eyes to meet his own again.
"This Mark may be a permanent part of your body, but it doesn't have to be a part of your heart."
In that moment, bathed in moonlight, her eyes shining with care, Draco had never seen anyone so beautiful.
"I see you as you are, Malfoy. I can't say that you're a shining example of goodness. Nor can I say with any confidence that you haven't done horrible, unspeakable things. You're conceited, selfish, and a bit of a prick, really."
"Gee, Granger. You sure know how to make a bloke feel good."
She smiled at him, moving her hand from his wrist to his shoulder.
"But I can say this. I've seen your heart, and it's a good one. Messy, sure, but still good. You aren't a monster, Draco Malfoy. You faced the darkest hour of your life and came away a better person. If that's not strength and goodness, then I don't know what is."
She was looking at him with such earnestness and Draco suddenly felt naked – totally exposed. He had the urge to run away, but at the same time, to stay right here, glued to this spot and to her every word. After all he had done to Granger through the years, how could she say such kind things to him? His eyes swam with tears for the second time that night. He tried to push them down, but they only overflowed onto his face instead.
Without warning, he felt arms wrap around him. Her embrace was so warm, and he leaned in. She rubbed small circles in his back as he cried, whispering soft words of comfort. He cried until his eyes ran dry and his hiccoughs died in his chest. The entire time she didn't move an inch, holding him in her arms gently.
When he finished crying, he pulled away and leaned back against the headboard. She moved beside him once more and the two sat in silence as they had so often recently.
Draco had grown to appreciate their silences. The two of them were clearly going through a lot of stuff at the moment, and sometimes he just didn't have the energy to talk or was lost in his own thoughts. He imagined Granger was the same. What a pair they made.
"I'm going to Obliviate my parents."
Draco turned to face the girl beside him. "You're…you're what? Why?"
"In case Death Eaters come looking for them to get information about me. Or you. I can't risk it. It would weigh on my mind, much as your thoughts weigh on yours. I'm going to erase myself from their lives and send them far away. It's for the best."
Draco didn't know what to say. He wasn't good with words like Granger.
Instead he laced his fingers with hers.
Whew! What a roller coaster that was. Hermione and Draco certainly are emotional, aren't they? I mean, I certainly would be if I was in their shoes. They also seem to be getting along...all right it seems. Some might argue that their relationship is building too fast, but I just know based off of my experiences that when you spend A LOT of time together with people, barriers tend to break down very quickly. Especially when there's not much to do but talk! And poor Draco - he needed a friend.
Until next time, my dears!
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