I own nothing but the plot.
April 13th, 1999
"You've got to be kidding me," Hermione stared up at Draco, disbelief written upon her face. She had been happily chatting to the Gryffindor's that had remained over the Easter break, Ginny and Neville among them whilst eating her breakfast. McGonagall had given the 6th and 7th year students free reign to visit Hogsmede whenever they wanted throughout the break, her level of trust increased after the war as she understood that some days, those who had been involved would want, or even need to get away. It was there at the Gryffindor table, with a forkful of bacon halfway to her mouth, that Hermione found herself trying to process what was surely a joke.
"Do I look like I'm kidding, Granger? My mother is coming to Hogsmede for the day and has requested that I invite you to attend a luncheon," Draco's voice was flat, and he inspected the rowdy bunch at the table as he stood, his hands tucked into the pockets of his silver slacks.
"Even after…" Hermione glanced around, Neville catching her eye and wisely realising what she wanted, drawing the others back into conversation. "You know…" she lowered her voice, her hand shifting just enough to barley gesture at his waist. Her last interaction with the Malfoy matriarch had been embarrassing to say the least, having been caught with her hand literally down his pants. Her pride was as bruised as her ass after her hasty retreat, the humiliation and embarrassment still burning a bit when she thought about it. She'd been careful to avoid being alone with Draco after that, spending most of her time in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't that her mixed feelings to the wizard had suddenly changed, no, she still felt as attracted to him and cared for him, but she wanted to avoid getting into that situation again. She was with Ron, it was the happily ever after, after all.
"She has requested to meet with you. If you are agreeable, I will be waiting in the Entrance Hall at 11am to escort you to Madam Puddifoot's," Draco's nose scrunched at the location. He hated the tea shop as Pansy had dragged him there for more than one Valentine's Day, but unfortunately his mother had attended school with Madam Puddifoot herself and preferred the ambiance to that of the Three Broomsticks.
"I'll let you know later," Hermione dismissed him with a blush on her cheeks, turning back to her housemates, effectively dismissing the Head Boy. Draco for his part simply shook his head, a rueful smirk on his face before he sauntered away, giving a nod to the Headmistress as he passed her on his way out of the Great Hall.
"You know, it's 10:30…" Ginny mused as she laid across the plush couch in the Head Dormitory, thumbing through the most recent issue of Witch Weekly.
"And?" Hermione didn't glance up from her own book, but she did raise it a bit to hide her face, hoping the redhead wouldn't pick up on the slight lift to her voice.
"And don't you have somewhere to be?" Ginny tossed the magazine onto the coffee table between them, fixing a pointed stare on the older witch.
"Like?" Hermione sank a bit lower into her armchair, hiding firmly behind her book.
"Hermione. You're my best female friend. I love you in a completely non lesbian way. And I know Ron's my brother but fuck me Hermione, you're smarter than him. And I'm not blind, I know there's something definitely going on between you and Malfoy. The sexual tension between you two is as thick as Hagrid's treacle," Ginny didn't care to beat around the bush, this was something that had been bugging her for a while. "Plus he does seem… different this year. I heard about what happened with Dennis, plus he's been quite civil. Sure he's still a snarky asshole sometimes but he's… maybe he was a product of his environment, you know? McGonagall saw something in him to let him back and frankly that, plus the fact that he's hot as fuck… How haven't you jumped him yet? Honestly I would if not for Harry. I know he invited you to lunch, do it. Take the date. Fuck it, Hermione. Be happy."
Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, not even sure what to say as Ginny continued.
"I… is this…" Hermione eventually found a few words, placing her book down on the coffee table, glancing down at her outfit.
"Absolutely not. Go get changed. Oh oh! The green dress. Do it. Be happy, Hermione," Ginny's eyes lit up as she realised that Hermione was starting to consider, shooing her up to her dorm to change. Hermione nodded before rising, rushing up the staircase without another word, only a worried glance at the clock.
Smiling to herself, Ginny reached for her magazine again, thumbing through the pages until she found the article she was last at. It wasn't that she didn't love Ron and want him to be happy, but even a blind man could tell that he wasn't a right fit for Hermione, no matter what he thought. And she wanted them both to be happy, and together wasn't the way. Personally, she felt like Hermione had been suffocating in the months following the final battle and hadn't started to come back to herself since returning to school. She barely smiled over the summer and laughed even less. Ron had been treating her like a possession almost, like she was his prize after the war, and as much as she loved her brother, she hated that mentality. She was grateful that Harry wasn't acting the same, because it's not something she'd stand for. She was surprised that Hermione had, but at the same time she understood why. There was always this silent pressure and assumption that the witch would end up with Ron, the same way it was assumed she'd end up with Harry – the main difference being that she loved the black haired boy more than anything, and he felt the same way, whereas Ron saw Hermione as his prize and she didn't even know what Hermione felt. She had no doubt she loved her brother as a friend, but that didn't always translate to romantic. That wasn't something she'd started to notice until they went back to school, until the Head Boy was announced, until they all let go of all grudges. The longer Ginny saw her friend spending time with Malfoy, the more she saw her smile.
Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs, Ginny tossed her magazine down and sat up to inspect the witch in front of her, her jaw dropping as she took in the outfit. An emerald green dress covered her form, highlighting the assets that the witch usually hid. The neckline was high and sleeves reached to her elbows, the cut of the dress form fitting to her waist where a black belt cinched it, skirt flaring out and falling to just below her knees. The phoenix inked on her forearm was visible, the bright, colourful creature boldly displaying the witch's commitment to magic, the image moving occasionally. Usually bushy brown hair was pulled up into a knot on top of the witch's head, a few tendrils falling to frame her face, a light brush of makeup on her face. Ginny was impressed by what she'd managed in twenty minutes, and was suddenly very glad that she'd talked the witch into purchasing the dress last time they went to Diagon Alley together.
"Okay, so, you're my best female friend and I love you in a lesbian way, Hermione," Ginny wolf whistled, eyes flicking down as she hoped that the usual school shoes had been cast off, impressed again at a pair of black kitten heels. "Now go!" Glancing at the clock, she shooed the witch away, smiling to herself.
Hermione stopped to lean down, pressing a grateful kiss to Ginny's cheek before leaving the common room, moving swiftly to make her way down to the Entrance Hall.
Leaning against a statue, Draco checked his watch. He didn't bother to look up as he heard heels clicking down the marble staircase.
"You're late," he looked up at last, the rest of his sentence fading on his lips as he took in the sight before him. "Did you plan this?" He quirked a brow, glancing down at his own emerald green button up shirt, then to her dress.
"No, I bloody well did not, and it's two minutes, you'll live," Hermione blushed, reaching the base of the staircase, crossing over to Malfoy. He just smirked at her, the look infuriating and arousing all at the same time. Neither of them spoke another word as they left the castle together, not touching or speaking as they made the short walk to the magical village, the silence comforting more than anything, both at ease with one another and not needing to fill the space with meaningless chatter. Hermione was grateful that she didn't need to open her mouth the closer they got to the high street, her breakfast threatening to make a reappearance as they got closer and closer to the tea shop, her last interaction with Draco's mother very clear in her mind.
Reaching the tea shop, Draco took a few steps in front of Hermione, opening the door for the witch. She raised an eyebrow and was about to make a retort to him about being able to open her own doors before it dawned on her that for all his upbringing had done, he was still a pureblood and traditional manners had likely been drilled into him since birth, especially if he knew his mother was around. Opting for a small smile, she just nodded at the blonde before stepping into the tea shop, breathing a relieved sigh when her eyes cast around, the cosy shopfront not nearly as pink or frilly as Harry had once described it to her. There was no denying that it was feminine, but it wasn't gaudy. If she was honest, she found it rather charming. A few tables were occupied with couples, some of them students of Hogwarts, a few of them older residents of the village and surrounds.
Stepping past a table that was empty but still laden with a tea service, Draco and Hermione approached the table that Narcissa Malfoy sat at. Pulling a chair out, Draco offered it to Hermione, and she cast him another small smile, sitting down. He stepped around to his mother, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek before taking his own seat.
"Hello, Mother. Happy Easter," Draco's voice was soft, a tone Hermione hadn't heard from him before.
"Happy Easter, Mrs Malfoy, thank you for the invite," Hermione blushed and pressed her hands into her lap nervously, attempting to smile at the rather intimidating witch. She had quickly left the hospital wing last time they met and had never actually had a full conversation with her.
"Happy Easter, Draco, and thank you so much for agreeing to come, Miss Granger," Narcissa's voice was lighter than Hermione thought, and there was a warmth in the elder witch's eyes that she hadn't expected at all.
"Please, call me Hermione," Hermione fidgeted again, her nerves getting the better of her. Her eyes widened as she felt a larger hand suddenly press over hers, stilling the rapid movements of her fingers. Draco cast her a quick glance, squeezing her hand once before releasing.
"It's good to see you again, Mother," Draco said, not showing any other indication that he'd reached for the witch.
"I hope you're doing well in school, Draco. And you as well, Hermione. Draco tells me that you're an extremely bright young woman," Narcissa reached an empty tea cup, finding nothing there as Draco's manners quickly kicked in, the blonde immediately moving to serve tea to both his mother and Hermione, busying himself with the task. "And thank you, again, Hermione, for agreeing to come today. We did not get a chance to speak a few weeks ago when I was at the castle – I do apologise for cutting your visit with Draco short. I'm sure he appreciated your company." She cast a knowing smile at her son, who blushed for his part, his cheeks faintly pink as he placed the now full tea cup in front of his mother, another in front of Hermione.
"Oh, no, it's no problem at all Mrs Malfoy, you came far further to see him," Hermione blushed as well, her cheeks flaming brighter than Draco's, both her hands coming out to cradle her now full teacup. Lifting it to her lips, she took a sip, eyes widening as the hot liquid touched her tongue, just the right amount of sugar and cream already added. She had no idea when Draco had memorised the way she liked her drinks, but her heart skipped a beat at the simple action.
"Please, Hermione, call me Narcissa. I wanted to apologise to you formally for what happened at my previous home last year. What Bellatrix did to you was abhorrent and I cannot express my sorrow for it enough, nor can I express my gratitude completely for your testimony at the Wizengamot," Narcissa sipped at her own tea, her bright blue eyes fixed on the young woman. "It takes an incredibly strong woman to come through that, and still treat my son with the kindness that you have been this year."
"I…" Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. Looking down, she tried to focus on the tea swirling in her cup, a strong hand reaching under the table to gently squeeze her knee. Tilting her head back up, she gave Draco a thankful smile before turning her attention back to Narcissa Malfoy. "I cannot blame him, nor you, for what happened. Bellatrix… Bellatrix is responsible for her actions and I have come to terms with what she did." Raising her arm slightly, Hermione indicated at the bold phoenix inked over the scars, completely hiding the hideous word carved into her flesh. "Nor can I blame Draco for the way he was raised. We have… spoken about what it was like to live with his father. I believe after these last few months at school though, he takes after you far more than he'd like to admit. You raised a fine young man, Narcissa, and I am honoured to call him my friend." It was the first time she had ever actually called him anything like a friend, and Draco's hand gripped her knee tightly, his eyes widening.
Narcissa reached for a napkin, bringing it up to tenderly dab at her eyes as Hermione spoke, both women slipping into further conversation, Draco tuning out the second it turned to his formative years.
Looking up from his tea, Draco paused as he reached for a sandwich, his eyes widening and a devious smirk spreading across his face as he witnessed a very dishevelled Lavender Brown appear from the single occupancy bathroom at the back of the shop, trying her best to straighten her clothing as she made her way to the table just next to theirs, sinking into a seat without looking around. No matter how hard she tried though, it was hard to disguise the just-fucked air about her. Nudging Hermione with his leg, he pointed to the other girl.
Narcissa watched as a look of pure disdain crossed the young woman's face, leaning back into her seat to watch this interaction, curious to see how his son acted and behaved, even this action more relaxed than he usually was. Hermione Granger was bringing her son out of his shell, and she would be forever grateful to the witch for that alone regardless of what was going on between the pair. As far as she was aware from the news tabloids and information in the Prophet over summer, the brunette was engaged in a relationship with the youngest Weasley boy and had been since the War ended. Raising an elegant eyebrow, Narcissa cast a quick glance to her son as the look on Hermione's face crossed from disdain to rage to hurt in quick succession, surprised to find an equally as dark look upon Draco's face. Turning her attention to what was capturing both young adults, she quickly catalogued the incident to analyse later.
"Ron!?" Hermione stood from her chair, almost knocking it over as Ron Weasley appeared from the bathroom, his shoulder length red hair a mess, the boy looking up from where he had been zipping his fly still. Ron's eyes widened as he saw Hermione sitting at the table, a look of horror and guilt crossing his face as he looked from her to Lavender and back again.
"'Mione! I can expla-" Ron cut himself off as he noticed that she was at a table with Malfoy and his mother, and clearly not a recent addition if the empty teacups and half eaten sandwich platter was anything to go by, the guilt fading quickly to burning anger. "Didn't I tell you to stop associating with Death Eater scum, 'Mione? I told you."
"You don't dictate who I speak to, Ronald," Hermione was trembling, not sure if it was from anger or hurt, glancing from Ron to Lavender, putting two and two together quickly, realisation dawning on her – the Gryffindor girl had been in and out of the castle all year on secret dates, and spending more than one night staying in the Three Broomsticks, and now it was starting to make sense – and making sense why Ron had stopped pressuring her into anything.
"You're my girlfriend, 'Mione, so yeah, I think I do get to lay down the rules, especially around scum like them," Ron stomped closer, his voice raising and silencing the others in the tea shop, everyone tuned into the beginning of what was promising to be an explosive row. Narcissa was shocked by what was unfolding, even more so when Draco rose from his own seat to stand behind Hermione, his hand resting gently against her lower back to let her know that he was there. The blonde had an inch or so of height on the redhead, his sleeves rolled to the elbows and exposing the tail of the black dragon inked on his forearm, covering the faded Dark Mark underneath and he still cut an imposing figure. Though she knew it wasn't the best time to think it, she couldn't help but notice the way the pair complimented each other.
"Am I, Ronald? Am I your girlfriend? Because if I am, you wouldn't be fucking someone else," Hermione seethed.
"Maybe if you put out, he wouldn't need to find someone better!" Lavender had stood as well, her chin tilted upwards in a huff, folding herself into Ron's side.
"Keep out of it, Brown," Hermione dismissed the witch, her ire fixed on Ron. Though she knew she had her own guilts especially around the kisses and brief touch she'd shared with the Slytherin, they hadn't crossed that final line. One that Ron it seemed had been crossing since their first weekend back at school.
"Don't speak to her like that! This is what happens when you associate with scum, 'Mione, you never used to be like this," Ron pushed Lavender away from him without ceremony, stepping up on Hermione, his fists balling at his sides. White hot rage was building inside of him, and he couldn't tell if it was directed at Hermione or Malfoy anymore. He hated that she was getting close to him, that she didn't see him as the Death Eater scum that he knew the Slytherin was. He hated that she had gone back to school instead of staying by his side, he hated that she wasn't letting him have her. He had fought in the War as well, didn't he deserve his prize? They were meant to be together, everyone expected it. He just needed her to realise it too, and then he could be happy. "If it's a problem I'll stop fucking her."
"If it's a problem? Are you kidding me?" Hermione was dumbfounded that Ron had actually said that, like he couldn't see that it was an issue. She missed the boy that she'd grown up with, but something had changed after the War and he wasn't dealing with it. Where Draco had softened and been working his way towards redeeming his name, and those like Dennis had slipped into depression, Ron had instead into a dark spiral of anger and rage, a spiral that he was losing control of. "We're done, Ronald. I've been trying to wait, to give us a chance, but we're not going to work. I deserve to be happy too."
"You're breaking up with me? YOU'RE MINE, 'MIONE, NOT HIS!" Ron was shouting now, disbelief mixing with his rage. He took a step closer to her, his hand raising without thinking about it. All he could see was red, unable to comprehend that she was breaking up with him after all they'd been through.
Hermione didn't even have a chance to blink before Draco had slipped in front of her, his wand out and suddenly under Ron's chin, a dangerous look on his face.
"Leave, right now, Weasley, before I do something that you'll regret," Draco hissed, close enough to see the flicker of fear suddenly in the redhead's eyes.
Ron blanched, stepping backwards quickly as he felt a burn against his chin, not willing to put it past the Slytherin to use an Unforgivable on him.
"Let's go, Lav, we don't associate with murders," Ron muttered, grabbing Lavender's hand, dragging her out of the hushed tea shop. The second the bell above the door tinkled, Draco tucked his wand back into his pocket, turning and gently pulling Hermione's trembling body against his chest, running a soothing hand down her back, just wanting to comfort her.
Though she knew it wasn't the time, Narcissa couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face as she watched her son, and a witch who was making him into a better man than she could have dreamed.