Chapter Seven

Draco was somewhat mortified as he sat in his room late that night. He had been so determined to keep Hermione at a metaphorical arm's length, and yet she'd broken past his barriers yet again. He contemplated the terms of his bet with Blaise. He had to make Hermione fall in love with him by the Easter ball. Okay. So far he was doing a pretty good job of that, or at least he thought so. His bet only stated that he would have to give up his Head Boy status if he lost the bet, but there was nothing that kept him from falling for the girl and keeping her once the bet was up.

He began to seriously wonder if that was the course he wanted to take.

They had a lot in common, he and Hermione. More than he'd ever stopped to consider in the past. Maybe they could work out in the long run if he tried hard enough. Draco sighed heavily. What was he doing, bothering to consider such blasphemy? He was Draco sodding Malfoy for Salazar's sake. He didn't know how to play nice for long, and he was bound to blow it with her eventually.

He flopped onto his bed in a huff. What was he going to do? No matter what happened, he would protect his mother. But at the same time, he was so used to getting what he wanted, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was true. He wanted Hermione Granger. For real. Forever. That thought scared him more than he was willing to admit.

Draco fell into a restless sleep still aimlessly chasing thoughts in circles around his head. When he awoke the next morning, it was far too early, and he was still knackered. He knew he needed more sleep to function in classes, yet he also knew wouldn't be able to get back to sleep again. How had Hermione changed his life so much in less than 72 hours? The more he thought about it, the more he was forced to consider the idea that perhaps Hermione had already been under his skin and he'd just been unaware. He wondered if Blaise and Pansy had known that when they initiated the bet.

Groggily, he dressed and charmed his hair into submission. Upon second glance in the mirror above his trunk, he cast a spell to cover the bruises under his eyes. There. He looked as impeccable as ever, and nobody would be the wiser about his exhaustion. Once he'd finished that, he made his way out to the Heads' shared common room. Hermione was already there, reading a book in front of the fireplace. Draco's heart shuddered to a stop at the sight of her. How was it that she grew more beautiful every time he saw her? All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and—

He halted that thought in its tracks, certain that it would do him absolutely no good to keep going down that road. But he did wonder . . .

"Morning," he said softly as he descended the stairs.

"Hey you," Hermione replied.

"Did you get your homework done last night?" he asked.

She nodded. "I stayed up pretty late, but I did everything I needed to. What about you?"

He shrugged. "Got it all done yesterday afternoon."

"Oh."

An awkward silence grew between them.

"So," he said to break the tension. "It's Friday."

"Yep," Hermione responded, still engrossed in her book.

"What are your plans for free period this morning?" he asked uncomfortably. Why were things suddenly so weird?

"Well, now that you mention it," Hermione said with a bright grin, "I wanted to show you this book I've been working on."

Draco examined it more closely, a strange feeling of foreboding creeping up his spine. "What is it?"

She flipped it closed and showed him the cover: Our Family.

He gulped nervously. "Okay?"

"It's us!" Hermione exclaimed. "I Floo'd your mother this morning to get some pictures of you, and I made us this family scrapbook!"

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You . . . Floo'd . . . my mother?"

She nodded eagerly. "And I used a bit of magic to whip up this great album. Come look."

Still in shock, Draco walked over to the couch and sat beside her. The cover of the scrapbook had a clearly doctored photo of the two of them in a field. They were staring lovingly at each other and waving at the camera intermittently. Hermione opened to the first page. Draco stared in horror.

"It's our wedding day," she explained.

He didn't need her to elaborate, though. He was staring at another manipulated picture; he was in his best dress robes, and she was in an elegant white gown. Their likenesses were kissing heatedly. He gulped. This was starting to get really weird.

"And these are our kids," Hermione said as she turned the page again. "Obviously I don't know what they'll look like, but I whipped up a little spell to sort of merge our features together." She pointed at a hideous girl with white-blonde hair, then at an even uglier boy with a shock of curly brown hair. "That's Hermione Jr, and that's Draco Jr."

Draco abruptly stood. He couldn't handle whatever the hell was happening here. Whatever he thought he'd been feeling when he awoke this morning had vanished. This girl was bat-shit crazy.

"You—I can't believe you did this," he sputtered.

Hermione closed the book. "You don't like it?"

He shook his head. "It's insane!" he insisted. "We've been dating for three days!"

"So you don't like our children?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

Draco threw his hands into the air. "You're insane! Why did you think I would like something like this? Do you know me at all?" Before she could reply, he stomped back to his bedroom. He needed a few dozen shots of Firewhisky to burn away the memory of what had just happened.

Hermione grinned triumphantly as soon as Draco's bedroom door had slammed shut. She tossed the scrapbook into the fireplace and left the dorm, pleased with the results. She hadn't actually Floo'd Narcissa Malfoy. She wasn't suicidal. She had just snapped a picture or two of Draco while he'd been asleep. No big deal.

When she entered the Great Hall for breakfast, she hurried over to Harry and Ron to tell them what she'd done. They roared with laughter at her vivid descriptions of the morning's events.

"I—I can't—breathe," Ron choked out between guffaws.

Harry pounded a fist on the table. "I would've paid good money to see his face."

Hermione smirked. "If this doesn't take him down a peg, I don't know what will."

"It's perfect," Ron wheezed. "He's going to go absolutely mental."

"What if he breaks up with you?" Harry asked.

"Who cares?" Hermione said. "I'll still have tortured him for a while."

"Fair enough."

The trio finished breakfast, still chortling happily. Afterward, they gathered their bags and headed to Transfiguration. As this was a NEWT level course, there were only a handful of seventh years that attended. Draco just so happened to be one of them. He was already in the room when they entered.

Hermione looked at him with big doe-eyes and approached his table. "Are you still mad at me?" she asked tremulously. Pride swelled in her chest as she watched him take a deep, fortifying breath.

"No, of course not," he finally replied. "I was just . . . surprised, is all. I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."

That surprised her. Draco apologized for her being purposefully crazy. How unexpected.

"Still, I imagine you'd like some space for a while," Hermione hinted. "I'll just go sit with Harry and Ron—"

"No, really," Draco interrupted. "Sit with me. Please."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

Harry and Ron stared at her incredulously from across the room. She shrugged. Perhaps this plan had backfired, too.

The next day didn't go much better. Draco could hardly believe that Hermione was acting the way she was. It was so out of character for her to be so . . . well, girly. Over the last 24 hours, she had driven him crazy. She spent hours asking for random food from the kitchens, only to change her mind and ask for something else. She spent a few more hours being absurdly clingy and demanding to know everything about his ex-girlfriends. After that, she bored him to death with talk of revision schedules and studying for NEWTs. Draco was ready to tear out his hair. And if he hadn't had so much at stake, he would've dropped her on her head off of the Astronomy Tower. He was beginning to wonder if following through with the bet was worth it.

But just as he was about to go find Blaise and figure out if he could forfeit, a thought struck him. Maybe if he laid it on extra thick, he'd get her to fall for him and she'd stop being so bipolar. It was worth a shot, at any rate. So instead of leaving the dorm, he knocked on Hermione's bedroom door.

She opened it, apparently in the middle of getting ready for bed. She was in rumpled pajamas, and a toothbrush hung out of her mouth. "Dwaco?" she mumbled through her mouthful of toothpaste.

Draco internally cringed at the sight, but he was going to do this. He had to. "So, I was wondering . . ."

"Yeah?" Hermione prompted, pulling her toothbrush out of her mouth.

He swallowed back his revulsion. "Well, I was thinking . . . you know how on Thursday we did something out in the Muggle world? I thought maybe we could do something in mine next. If you're up for it, that is."

She held up a finger, then turned around and went into her en-suite. He heard water running in the sink, and then she reappeared. "What do you mean?"

"Iwonderedifyouwantedtogoseemymothertomorrow," he said in a rush.

"What?" She scrunched up her nose.

"I—" He took a deep, calming breath. "I wondered if you wanted to go see my mother tomorrow," he said evenly. "She likes to do Sunday afternoon tea with me, and I thought maybe you could come if you wanted to."

Hermione's face whitened considerably. He understood, really. It wasn't like she had the best memories of his mother, after all. Nor of his childhood home, either. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to ask this of her, especially since it was only the fifth official day they'd been dating.

"Well, I—" she started uncomfortably. "I suppose I could try."

Draco's gaze snapped to hers. "Wait, really?" he asked in astonishment. "You'll come?"

She nodded slowly. "The war is over. Your mother defected, and I realize that I have to give her a second chance if I'm going to give you one."

"Wow," he breathed, eyes wide. "Yeah, okay."

She smiled shyly at him, and suddenly Draco knew he had his Hermione back.

Without stopping to think, Draco pulled her into his arms. He kissed her almost roughly in his haste to connect their lips. She softened against him and kissed him back with equal ardor. He was certain his heart stopped beating when she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, and he hungrily deepened the kiss. They only broke away from each other when his chest burned for air. And even then, Draco continued to pepper small kisses along her jaw and down her neck as his pulse returned to normal.

"Um," Hermione gasped out. "We should— we should stop."

He hummed lazily into the skin of her shoulder, continuing his attentions.

"D-draco," she persisted, "please. This is too fast."

He stilled his actions and took a small step back. "I'm sorry," he said lowly. "I-I got carried away."

She nodded. "Me too," she whispered.

"Well, er, I guess I'll see you in the morning?" he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Hermione looped a strand of her hair around her index finger. "I . . . yeah."

He nodded slowly. "You'll still come tomorrow?"

"Of course. I already said I would, didn't I?" She smiled softly at him.

"That you did," Draco agreed. "Tea is at noon exactly, and Professor McGonagall lets me use her Floo to get there. You okay to leave here about eleven forty-five?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Okay then."

He slowly backed away as she closed her door, a dopey grin on his face. This was ridiculous. One second he was thinking about getting rid of Hermione, and the next he was snogging her like his life depended on it. Draco spent most of the night in agitated restlessness. After their insanely delightful snogging session, he had needed a very long, cold shower to calm down. That witch was going to be the death of him.

The next morning, Draco awoke late. When he rolled over and saw that his clock read 11:30, he almost panicked. He was supposed to leave for tea with his mother in 15 minutes! In quick succession, he cast a spell to fix his hair and hide the bruises under his eyes, then he cast another one to press his Sunday Best (his mother always expected him to be dressed this way on Sundays). When he was satisfied that he didn't look the way he felt internally, he left his room and approached Hermione's. He knocked gently, and the door opened to reveal the absolutely most beautiful version of Hermione Granger he'd seen to date.

She'd left her hair down, but had tamed it with some kind of potion or spell, for it hung down her back in full ringlets, sans its usual frizz. Her face was done up with just a hint of makeup—enough to accentuate her cheekbones and gorgeous eyes. Draco's favorite part of the ensemble was, however, her dress. He'd never seen her wear it before. It was a white, sleeveless sundress that stopped just below her knees. It was embroidered with little daisies. She'd paired the dress with butter-yellow flats. Lastly, she'd accentuated with a delicate gold necklace made up of tiny daisies; it came with a matching bracelet and pair of earrings, too.

Draco was left utterly speechless for a moment, and simply stood there staring at her. She twined her hands together self-consciously.

"I knew this wasn't the right outfit," she mumbled hurriedly. "I'll just go change."

His hand zipped out and snagged her wrist as she turned to reenter her bedroom. "No," he choked out. "It's perfect."

A pretty blush crept up Hermione's cheeks, and she averted her gaze. "Okay. Shall we go, then?"

He nodded and led the way out of their common room. They walked quickly but silently through the halls to McGonagall's office. Draco stayed quiet for as long as he could, but he finally dragged her to a stop a few doors away from their destination.

"My mother," he started uncomfortably. "I need to tell you before we go to the manor that she's . . . she's not well."

"What's wrong with her?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco shook his head. "The Healers think it's the effect of too much residual Dark magic or something. I disagree, but that's beside the point. Just know that she is very weak and probably won't move around a lot. She's not trying to be snobbish, really. She just . . . can't."

"It's okay, Draco," she said gently, placing a hand on his elbow. "I won't judge her, I promise."

He nodded sharply. "And one more thing: she doesn't believe all of that pureblood stuff. Never really did. She's not going to treat you poorly, I swear it."

Hermione shocked him by leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Can we go now?" she asked when she pulled back.

"Yeah," he whispered.

She smiled and took his hand, then walked beside him up to McGonagall's office. The headmistress spared them one shocked glance before waving them toward her fireplace and allowing them to take the Floo to Malfoy Manor. During the brief travel, Draco's cynical side scoffed at him for being such a sap. When had he forgotten how to be a Slytherin, let alone a Malfoy? When they stepped out on the other side, he rigidly waited for Hermione to brush the soot off her shoulders.

"Come on, your mother's waiting," Hermione whispered.

Draco stepped back with a nod. "Right."

He kept space between the two of them as they walked to the sunroom at the back of the manor. The more time that passed, the more he became mortified with his actions. What was he doing? He couldn't allow what was happening to change him, at least not this much. He was still Draco Malfoy, after all. But at the same time, walls had come down between them that he hadn't really known existed before. He felt at home with Hermione, and he didn't want to lose that.

He shook his head minutely and opened the doors to the sunroom with a flourish.

"Draco, darling, you made it," Narcissa said softly.

"Hello, Mother," he responded warmly. "You weren't waiting long, I hope?"

"No, not long at all," she said.

"Mother, I presume you remember Hermione Granger?" Draco placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back and ushered her into the room.

She walked into the sunroom with small steps, but her head held high.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Narcissa murmured. "I don't suppose you'd like to start over, would you?"

Hermione smiled widely. "I'd like that very much, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa nodded and patted the space beside her on the sofa. "Then come in and have tea with us."

Draco hid his shock from both women as he took a seat in the armchair across from them. He almost didn't recognize his mother. She was far livelier than he'd seen her all year. Perhaps it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring Hermione here after all.