"Professor, I was wondering if you could sign some forms for me?" Hermione sat in front of the Headmistress' desk, watching her former Professor with a slightly contained grin. Professor McGonagall peered at the young girl over the edge of her glasses before leaning over to take the papers from her hands.
"These are recommendation forms, Miss Granger."
"Yes, I'm aware, ma'm." McGonagall looked up at her again.
"You shouldn't need any recommendation to find a solid career choice, my dear."
"Well, no, but it never hurts to have it ready in case it is needed." McGonagall's lips raised an inch and she looked back down at the papers in front of her.
"Very well. I shall sign them all. May I ask which positions you are looking to apply for?"
"I was hoping I could talk to Kingsley about open department spots. My first choice would be with Magical Creatures. Of course, it's always smart to have other choices and such, so I've rated the departments in order of which I would prefer them. Would you like to hear them?" Hermione stuck her hands under her thighs as she leaned closer expectantly, making sure to not grab at her hair. McGonagall sat slowly upright and shook her head softly.
"No thank you, Miss Granger, that won't be necessary. I'm sure you will find sufficient placing in the Ministry. Is there anything else I could do for you today besides signing these forms?" She stood and made her way over towards the window, hands clasped together behind her back. While facing away from the younger girl, a smile lifted her lips graciously before disappearing into a casual expression.
"Not that I can think of, Professor."
"Please, Miss Granger, I am no longer your professor. You need not call me that." Hermione stood.
"Then you should call me Hermione then, as well." McGonagall turned to face her with a single raised eyebrow. A flash of Draco flitted through her mind and her cheeks flushed. "Since we are foregoing formalities as such."
"Yes, I suppose so. . .Hermione." The young witch's face broke out in a large smile. Unfortunately, their moment was ruined as a large eagle owl tapped against the glass. For the first time in Hermione's short life as a witch, she saw McGonagall frightened.
The elder witch jumped backwards, wand drawn at the window frame where the bird sat on the ledge. Her breathing had deepened and Hermione noticed the way her lips quivered, as if she were about to cry.
"Uh, Prof-. . .Minerva? Are you alright?" Hermione went to place a hand on her shoulder, but hesitated. McGonagall turned to face her, eyes wide and somewhat glassy.
"Ah, yes. . .yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was still so jumpy." A nervous chuckle sounded from her thin lips. "It seems we all have things to deal with."
Hermione nodded solemnly, before looking back at the owl. He had a note wrapped around his ankle with a silver string and his feathers were brushed back in an aristocratic flair. Its large golden eyes locked onto hers and she blushed once more upon recognizing whose bird it was. Her fingers twitched up towards the ends of her hair and she tugged on them twice before she realized she had to stop.
"I believe this owl is for me. I do apologize for the intrusion."
"It's quite alright. I'm certain you're a busy person, my dear." Hermione unlatched the window and the owl flitted over to the desk, obviously expecting a reply. "He looks eerily familiar."
Hermione turned to face the Headmistress with a deep blush settling in her cheeks.
"Well, yes. . .he belongs to one of your former students." McGonagall studied the bird for a moment, hands clasped in front of her.
"Certainly not Potter's or Weasley's. Longbottom never had an owl. The Patil twins were never fond of animals. Mr. Thomas? Or what about, Mr. Finnegan? Do you keep correspondence with either of them?" Hermione was stroking the bird by now whilst avoiding McGonagall's pointed gaze.
"I do talk to them occasionally, however he belongs to none of the former students mentioned. He was, uh. . .not in your House." Her fingers slipped the ribbon away from his claw and pried the curled parchment open. His yellow beak nipped gently at her fingers in a playful manner. She slid her palm back over his head before she began to read.
Granger,
I do hope you are doing well and recieve this letter in fine health. You were not at home when I flooed, and so I have sent Dionysus to impart a message to you.
If you are free this evening, as I am hoping you are, please care to meet me in Diagon Alley outside Flourish and Blotts. I will entreat you to a numerous amount of books and a lovely dinner in which the location be a surprise.
Please do brush your hair (for once in your life, woman!) and wear something weather appropriate. I do not wish to part with my cloak, in the off chance that the temperature drops too low for your liking. However, if the opportunity is presented, I will gladly stake my claim by draping you in my finest silks.
Forevermore,
Draco Malfoy
p.s.
Yes, I did indeed quote another muggle genius and an American at that. Edgar Allen Poe should be greatly renowned by all for his brilliant works of poetry. I should hope to witness a retelling or few with you.
Hermione smiled without thinking of it. McGonagall watched her carefully, lips thin and eyes narrowed.
"Could it be. . .a one, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione spun to face her with a deep coat of blush emblazoning her cheeks.
"I. . ."
"You do not have to explain, Hermione. I have been your teacher and his for seven-pardon me-eight years. You both returned for your final years, and I am no stranger to affections kind eye and wistful smile." Her lips curled upwards for a split second before she moved to stand once more by the window. "You should know, dear, that you are a rather remarkable person."
"Oh, no. I've never been much of anything, Pro-Minerva."
"Is the war not prominent in your mind still? You are one of the reasons we managed to make it out alive."
"That was all spellwork and information I was taught. I stayed close to Harry and Ron to make sure they had as much help as they needed. All I really did, was read and share my wand with Harry. In all honestly, he's the better wizard of the three of us. His magic holds no boundaries. My book logic and studying doesn't hold much in ways for power. Even when he was stuck with my wand, he was still a force to be reckoned with."
"Did you not though, learn the art of wandless magic by letting Harry use your wand? That is quite a feat." Hermione's blush deepened.
"Quite a fluke, more like it. I'm not good with emotional magic. It's like. . .all my skills are learned from writings or lessons. I picked up on that by sheer luck and the greater need to survive; most importantly, Harry's survival."
"Hermione, I say you are a remarkable person because I know it to be true. I don't say it so lightly as to fan your ego." McGonagall turned to watch her eyes drop to the ground. "You have wondrous skill beyond your few years and your talent for magic is astounding. Unfortunately, you seem to be insecure in your standing and whilst modesty is a most favorable trait, it does not suit to be used as a mask for everything you do. I bring your person to trial in this way, to let you know that it had caught the eye of many others."
"Including a one, Draco Malfoy, I suppose?" Hermione dropped back into the chair in front of the large oak desk. Dionysus' feathers raised in warning at the slight thump of the chair but he continued to watch his reciever with intensity. McGonagall approached her own chair slowly, never taking her eyes off her former pupil.
"Entirely so. Your studying habits did not go unnoticed in your final year. The two of you often spent time outside of classes and studying as well; I am certain of that fact." She gracefully perched in the throne-like seat and clasped her hands together on the desktop. "He is quite the formidable match for you."
"What do you mean?"
"You were both the highest scoring students to graduate Hogwarts in the past century. He is not as intimidating as he tries to appear and yet his cool nature puts up a wall that very few can break down. Based on my knowledge, he seems to have broken that barrier with you, and, of his own accord." She nodded at the eagle owl that eagerly awaited Hermione's response. "Sending you owls, even after you two have parted ways after school. I am correct to assume it is for plans this evening?" When Hermione's face darkened once more in colour, McGonagall took that as her answer. "Let us not forget that he was able to produce the Patronus Charm under your direction."
"That wasn't really my doing, Minerva. If I'm to be perfectly honest, he had to collect a series of positive memories himself in order to complete the spellwork."
"Let it not go unnoticed that every known former Death Eater is unable to perform the Patronus Charm; with the exception of Mister Malfoy. You were also present for most of those happy memories, weren't you? One cannot overlook your visits to Hogsmeade or the nights you spent out by the Great Lake before curfew."
Hermione's mouth opened to voice a question, "How did you-" before McGonagall continued on.
"Many a student came with concern for your wellbeing as they witnessed the two of you spend more and more time together. I always advised them to talk to either of you if they wished to know more about the situation." Slowly, her former professor reached into one of the desk drawers and withdrew a piece of parchment with an inkpot and quill. She slid them across the desk to right in front of Hermione, and the younger girl looked at it blankly before raising her eyes in question. "And as the situation seems to have advanced past anything I may care to imagine, I daresay you should respond to his message. Also, Hermione-"A metal tin appeared next to the parchment and McGonagall unclasped the lid. "-have a biscuit. I'm sure you well deserve it."
Hermione gingerly took a flower shaped cookie from the tin and nibbled for a second before looking down at the parchment in front of her. She dipped the quill into the inkpot and took another bite of the cinnamon treat before starting to write.
Malfoy,
I am currently speaking with Professor McGonagall about future career opportunities for myself. As soon as I return home, I will prepare for this evening.
If I am to dress appropriately for the weather while remaining fit for wherever you are planning to take me, I do hope you will let me know your standards.
Plan to be there around six o'clock if you can? And do be prompt; I can be rather impatient if you have not learned so by now.
I'm looking forward to dinner and I'll be certain to let you pick the books. I'd like to see what you're interested in. Along with the subject of Edgar Allen Poe, I think it would be lovely to see a retelling or two sometime together.
Yours,
Hermione
She finished signing her name with a flourish of the quill and swallowed down the last bite of biscuit. She rolled the parchment and retied it to Dionysus' claw with the silver ribbon. He gave her an affectionate nip and took off towards the open window. As he disappeared on the horizon, Hermione relatched the glass and turned to her former professor.
"Thank you so much for everything."
"It is my pleasure, dear. Now, be sure and have a good night." McGonagall laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezed before leading her to the fireplace. "Do keep in touch; I would enjoy hearing about what's going on in your lives." She smiled, thin lips lifting up the farthest Hermione had ever seen them.
"Of course. Perhaps you can come to dinner at Harry's sometime." With a large smile of her own, she hurriedly wrapped her arms around the elder witch before letting go and stepping into the emerald flames.
McGonagall stayed where she was, eyebrows lifted in surprise yet eyes growing damp with tears. As the haze of the floo dissipated, she turned to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore hanging behind her chair.
"She reminds you of Lily, doesn't she, Minerva? Let us hope we do not lose her." McGonagall nodded solemnly. "It's astonishing, though, that after all this time they really never hated each other at all. I wonder how that came to be?" With that, her tears began to fall silently.
"Neither were born to hate. War twists one's original perceptions, which can make hatred seem like the forefront emotion." She looked over towards the window. "Even when it's not there at all."
"So, you're going out with Malfoy tonight, huh?" Harry leaned in the open doorway and watched her pull out a white dress. Hermione glanced up at him with a blank face, before turning back to the dresser.
"Should I wear white or black? He never did tell me what I should dress for."
"A date, Hermione, really? Isn't it a bit soon?" She sighed.
"It's been about two and a half months since school ended, Harry. This. . .whatever this is, has been going on for almost eight months. If it's a date, it's a date. I don't see why you're thinking it's 'too soon' for anything." He took a step into the room and opened his mouth, but she continued on. "Honestly, though, it's more than likely not a date. We've gone out for lunch and done other fun activities around Muggle London just as friends."
"Yes, around Muggle London. This isn't Muggle London, Hermione! The Prophet has already gone mad after seeing you two walking through Hyde Park last weekend."
"I don't care what the Prophet has to say. Currently, we are still just working on being friends and enjoying time spent well together."
"Are you just friends, though? Last I saw of him here, he was sneaking out of your room at one in the morning." She flushed and spun on her heel to face him, a dress clutched in each hand.
"That was nothing." His eyebrows flew up into his hairline.
"Oh, really? Then explain to me why he wasn't wearing his own shirt."
"I. . .I don't. . .I don't see any correlation of that to the topic at hand." She gaped before crossing her arms across her chest and sticking her nose high. He grimaced.
"Don't do that; you look just like him." She blanched and dropped her chin but kept her arms crossed tightly. "Hermione, I'm worried about you. I don't want you to get caught up in something so emotionally taxing that you can't focus on your dreams. You're still having trouble eating full meals and your hair pulling isn't getting much better quite yet. You told Ron and I-"
"It's 'Ron and me' in this context, Harry." At his look of pained disdain, she looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, please continue." His eyebrows raised and he sighed dejectedly.
"You told Ron and me that you were going back to Hogwarts to be alone. To focus on yourself. To figure out what you want. Now, you get back and you spent all your time there and now with Malfoy? It feels like you just reattached yourself to another emotional standstill."
"What do you mean?"
"Just. . .you and Ron didn't really work out. I just. . .I can't see Malfoy being any better."
"And why's that?" Hermione bristled at his words.
"Hermione, he's Malfoy."
"People deserve second chances, Harry."
"Do those second chances always come with midnight bedroom meetings and sneaking out in the morning while wearing each other's clothing?" She threw down the dresses onto the bed and stalked towards him, shoving a finger into his broad chest.
"Listen to me clearly, Harry James Potter. We are just friends. I cannot explain everything that happens in our private moments but I can tell you that it is none of your concern if it breeches mature territory. We are of legal age. However, the reason he was here was because Draco tends to have horrible night terrors; not much unlike your own. He ends up flooing here in the middle of the night, scared out of his mind, nails raking down his left arm as if he's trying to dig out the nonexistent Dark Mark, and comes to me for help. I have been the only person who cares even a modicum for him. I do truly care about him. So, because of the circumstances in which he arrives, I deem it only appropriate to dress him so he's not leaving here half naked such as how he is when he enters." Her breathing was heavy, eyes narrowed, and finger continuing to jab painfully into his chest.
"So what if something may happen in the future? Can't you be happy that I'm happy? You are my best friend in the whole world yet you're acting like I should be ashamed with who I spend my time with. Did you learn nothing from the war? We fought for the right and freedom to be who we want to be. I fought for my right to exist in this world and, while we may have been on opposite sides of that fight, Draco did not want the new world to be anything like the old. He finds muggles absolutely fascinating, Harry. He quotes artists and poets and scientists, all while asking me questions about deeper subjects. He wants to study technology and medicine. He wants to know how a radio works without magic and how the telly can connect to so many stations. He is so invested in changing his future but everyone only ever looks at his past." She was blushing furiously now, eyes dark and watery. Harry took a step back.
"I'm sorry. I'm working on it. I'll try to be more fair in my opinion. Have a good time tonight, and be safe." He left without further word. Hermione stood for a second longer, arm still raised as she stared at where he had been. Then she darted into the bathroom and promptly threw up her breakfast of burnt eggs and crumbly toast, along with the bitter remnants of McGonagall's biscuit.
"For the sake of. . ." She trailed off and cleaned her face. Looking up into the mirror, her eyes traced the wrinkles set along her lips and forehead. Worry and smile lines alike, they made her seem much older than the tender age of nineteen. Her birthday was mere weeks away and her mind wandered to any plans in store.
She didn't usually celebrate her birthday alone. Typically, she went out with friends the day afterwards. The day of, she spent with her parents; going out hiking or swimming, a home-cooked meal, and presents at the end of an exhilarating day together.
At the thought of her parents, her eyes welled up with tears once more and she bent back over the toilet, gagging. Nothing came up but sticky stomach acid that dripped from her bottom lip. When she looked back up at the mirror, a drop of blood hung from the edge of her nose. With a sigh, she wiped at it with the back of her hand. She washed her face and disappeared back into her bedroom to find a suitable outfit for the evening.
"That's quite a look, Granger." Draco was leaning up against the wall beside Flourish and Blott's doorway. He had donned a black robe over his dark grey slacks and white shirt. A sliver of green flashed around his neck and, peering closer, she recognized the tie as the one she had accidentally slipped around her own neck once. Silver eyes appraised her with a single up and down look before he sent a coy smirk her way. She had finally settled on the white cotton dress, with a pale set of maroon robes and black heeled boots. Her hair, she had left wild and free; simply just to spite him. He noticed. "I see you chose to look like a garden nymph tonight."
"That's quite a compliment, Malfoy. Nymphs were known for their great beauty and seduction."
"Weren't they also known for thievery and causing maddening infatuation?"
"Don't tempt me." She nodded at the shop behind him. "Shall we?"
He smirked once again and offered his arm. She slipped a hand around the crook of his elbow and followed him inside. A tingling bell announced their arrival and a few shoppers turned to see who had entered. When they caught sight of the infamous pair, they halted. The duo continued their stroll through the shop as though they hadn't noticed.
"Ooh, this one!" Hermione released Draco's arm to pick up a book on the art of magical knitting. "I do prefer my muggle way of doing it, but it's never too late to learn some new magic to help speed up the process!" Draco stood behind her, shaking his head.
"You are a strange one. . .but I did tell you that I would buy you whatever you may fancy." She smiled up at him, before knocking her shoulder against his own.
"You don't need to buy me anything. I am an adult, and I have money." She flipped over the book to see the price and then immediately placed it back down on the shelf. "Actually, this book may not be the right one for me, you know? It just seems a little silly; a book on how to knit with magic! I can knit perfectly fine without magic." Draco sighed before reaching over her to pick up the book.
"Yes, Granger, you are an adult and you do have money; however, I am treating you to whichever books you take a liking to. That includes this one." Her mouth opened with a few choice words dancing on her tongue. "Don't try to argue with me. My mind is made up."
She huffed before her hands landed on her hips with disdain.
"Your mother was right!" He balked.
"What?"
"You are stubbornly thick-headed!" She began to laugh as he stared at her in shock.
"You talk with my mother?"
"She comes for tea with Harry, you dolt, don't you remember?" His face dropped in horror.
"Does she talk about me with him? What does she say? How bad is it? Is he able to blackmail me with anything he knows? Merlin, why does she have to be friends with him?" His hand sweeped through his hair, tugging at the silk strands. She grabbed at it before lacing their fingers together.
"Oh, hush, it's nothing bad at all. She likes to tell stories of when you were younger."
"That sounds even worse."
"You act like we haven't known each other for almost nine years!"
"What I did at home was much different than what I did at school, Granger. Trust me, my childhood is not one I talk about willingly." They continued their walk around the store, Hermione's eyes dancing over book titles, and their hands still intertwined.
"Oh, please, you literally flaunted your perfect lifestyle every second you got."
"Don't push it." She looked up to see his face had hardened. It had been a while since she had last seen his jaw tense in anger. She squeezed his hand and kept walking. He followed slowly.
A few moments later, Draco paused next to a potions book. Hermione noticed his interest and perked up.
"You know, I did tell you to pick out some books for me to read." He looked down at her with a blank expression. "So that I can better understand what you're into! You know?" Her free hand crept up towards her hair.
"Hey, no pulling." Their clasped hands loosened and separated, before he was pushing back the curls from her face to keep her fingers from reaching them. "But, yeah, sure. You already know that I really enjoy potion-making but I'm also extremely interested in the history of Healers. Let me show you my favorite book, actually. It's all about the first Muggle encounter with a Healer and. . ."
As he started off towards the section where the book would be, Hermione grabbed the potions book he had first stopped at. She followed after him with a small smile spreading across her lips.
By the time they had left the book shop, Hermione had her arms full of at least six books. Draco stifled a laugh as she almost fell over a stack of cauldrons piled next to the store. With a small smile, he took four of the books from her arms and ignored her protests.
"I'm a gentleman, Granger. It's only natural."
"Oh, yes, what a gentleman. Only true gentlemen laugh at girls as they almost topple over right out into the street." He looked at her with wide eyes. "I know what your laugh sounds like, even when you try to hide it. You act as if I don't pay attention to you, Malfoy."
His only response was silence and a nudge of his elbow. She nudged him back harder with her shoulder and laughed loudly as he almost flew into a newspaper stand. The stand owner let out a yell and the two hurried on, smiles gracing both their lips.
"So, where are we off to now?" She looked up at her quiet companion. His eyes were watching the pink sky with interest.
"I was thinking a little French restaurant right near Knockturn Alley." At the mention of the heinous street, Hermione's eyebrows shot upwards and she stopped walking. Draco threw an exasperated look her way. "Oh, please, it's not in Knockturn Alley. It's right on the edge. It's owned by close family friends; those who were on your side of the war, mind you." Her face flushed. His eyes seemed darker than usual, as if he were closing himself off again.
"I'm sorry for my reaction. I still run off instinct, you know." He nodded sharply and they continued.
Their arrival at the restaurant was silent. A small bell chimed as they entered, creating the only sound on the dark street. The interior was draped in lace with dancing orbs of light flittering between the curtains. An older woman with graying dark hair sweeped towards them, billowing robes of jade layered over her frail frame. Her face was filled out with thick eyebrows, bold eyes, a crooked nose, and red lips pulled loosely into a greeting.
"Draco! Mon chéri! It 'as been too long, 'ow are you doing? Où est ta mère?" Draco's face lit up in a way Hermione had never seen before. She watched him step forward to embrace the woman in a hug, and the long, jade coloured nails that pinched at his thin cheeks.
"Madame Bonne! It's been much too long. I'm doing a lot better than when I last came to visit, I promise you that. My mother is at home and following the rules of her probation. She's doing quite well."
The two resumed a soft conversation before Draco turned to wave Hermione over.
"Madame, this is Hermione Granger. She is my date for the evening and we would like a private table if it's not too much to ask." Madame Bonne's smile, if even possible, grew larger.
"Why, o' course, ma douce." She turned, robes flying behind her. The two followed the elegant witch into a back room where a delicate rose tablecloth covered an oak table. A candelabra decorated the center of the setting, alit with three glowing flames. Draco pulled out Hermione's chair and she gingerly sat down, trying her best to not fall over.
After Madame Bonne left them, Hermione turned to Draco with raised eyebrows.
"You speak French?" His lips quirked upwards. Their glasses filled with a clear bubbling liquid.
"I can understand it. I can't speak it, unfortunately." She lifted her glass to her lips. "Fae champagne. A favorite of the French Wizarding Community."
"I can only assume it's delicious." A tentative sip proved her to be correct. "Mhmm, of course it is."
"Would I ever give you anything but the best?" A blush filled Hermione's cheeks. Draco noticed. "Ah, Granger, is someone getting sentimental now?"
"Don't push it, Malfoy." Her tone was playful, a finger wagging at him from across the tabletop. He reached over and grabbed it.
"I'll push anything I like, thank you very much."
"Of course you will, you insufferable bastard." He gasped dramatically.
"Hermione! What language. . ." She laughed and he smiled down at the table, sterling eyes peering up through gilded eyelashes. She found it endearing.
"You're one to talk. You have quite the foul mouth, Mr. Malfoy."
"Hmm, 'Mr. Malfoy'. . .I do quite enjoy the sound of that. It was such a proud reminder as a student. I wonder if. . .maybe I should become a professor? Just to hear it once again." Draco was watching her carefully. His lips were poised in a smile he saved for the newspapers and his eyes were shaded as if to play off the statement made. If Hermione had not spent the last eight months picking apart his little ticks, she would not have realized that his hand tightened around her finger in a grounding fashion.
"What are you getting at?"
"Whatever do you mean, my fair bookworm?"
"You're watching for a reaction from me. What for?"
"I was just wondering what you thought of me as a professor." His grip loosened only slightly. "It's nothing big, Granger." She studied him for a moment.
"I think. . ." A clink sounded and their plates were filled suddenly. Draco released her finger.
"Dinner smells heavenly." Hermione continued to look him over. His fingers seemed tense around his utensils, and he sliced evenly at the meat. Aurelian eyelashes guarded his pale eyes and blocked her from digging deeper.
'Not that he would let me dig around in his thoughts, anymore.' A sharp voice whispered in the back of her mind and she inhaled.
"It does." She picked up her fork and speared a creamy noodle. Draco nodded, giving her a look over before dropping his gaze back to his plate.
A few moments passed in silence before Hermione set down her utensils and placed her hands in her lap. Her fingers itched to grab at her curls but she refrained the best she could.
"I think you would make a wonderful professor." He looked up at her with a blank expression. Her lips moved without speaking as his gaze penetrated her. His hands had frozen in place, fingers stark white against the warm silver. The anxiety began to tingle along her nerves and she balled her hands into fists in her lap. "You know life. You understand it. You have lived."
"I would hope I have, Granger." An eyebrow lifted as he continued to watch her with a suspicious eye.
"No, that's not what I'm trying to say. . ." She paused. "Malfoy, you understand things that other people don't. You have lived through war and death and sorrow. You have witnessed terrible things that changed your life. Every day, you switch viewpoints because of something that may happen. What makes an amazing professor, is that they are willing to learn from their students." His face hardened. "Another thing! You're so incredibly talented. Your magic is breathtaking; I've seen your Charms skills, and I must say that I am in awe. The way you just crafted a tiny metal fountain out of pieces of scrap that day in the park. It was. . .well, suffice to say. . .magical."
He set down his silverware.
"I have seen you create and concoct your own potions. You spend days and weeks trying to find the perfect ingredients and measurements for the right balance. It's inspiring and dedicated. You care so much for your work." He picked up his glass for a drink and she followed suit quickly before continuing in a rush, without even taking a sip. "Occlumency! Don't even get me started on that! That is such a brilliant form of magic and the fact that you have it almost perfected is absolutely mad. I can't think of a single wizard alive that could best you in that magic."
"Granger. . ."
"Honestly, you'll have to give me a few pointers. I'm very curious about the work involved and the time it must take to study. . .Merlin! It must've taken you forever. How do you know which memories to jump into? Is it because they're already at the forefront or do you have to dig arou-"
"Granger, stop, please." His jaw muscle was twitching as was his left eye. The grip of his fingers around the stem of the wine glass was starting to crack the glass ever so slightly. "I appreciate everything you've said, I really do. However. . .could you please refrain from connecting my Occlumency with any teaching I may do? I know you don't understand, and you may not for quite some time, but that magic was not taught to me in happy times. I learned all of that through some dark fucking shit." His voice was a sharp whisper and he set the glass down while leaning closer towards her. "It ruined my life. Half of my memories aren't even real anymore, it seems. I don't want to teach you, or anyone for that matter, anything about Occlumency. There are times I really wish I didn't leave myself open enough to do it by accident."
"When have you done it by accident?"
"All those times I got into your head? That wasn't my original intention. Your emotions and my emotions kinda just drew me in and I saw a lot of things I probably shouldn't have."
Draco sighed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin this dinner. Thank you though, for your thoughts on me teaching. It means a lot to me." He picked up his silverware and continued to eat. Hermione watched him carefully.
"You didn't ruin anything, Draco." His eyes shot up to stare at her. Her breath caught in her throat and she inhaled sharply. "Thank you for being open like that with me. I'm sorry I brought all of that up though."
"It's whatever." He waved his fork in a single swish and let his eyes drop back to his plate. "I enjoy it when you ramble. . .even if it's about things I don't particularly want to talk about."
Her eyebrows raised.
"You enjoy me ranting on?" A slight smirk graced his lips and she was instantly reminded of their earlier years. The grin held no malice, as were the usual intentions, but instead rested with joviality.
"If I didn't, do you think I'd still be around to make fun of you for it, Granger?" She laughed; a deep sound from her gut that filled his head as if a musical equivalent of Tchaikovsky. His smirk softened into a bashful quirk of his lips and she took a sip of wine.
"You wound me, Malfoy, but maybe that's what I need in my life. Someone to take me down a peg when everyone is boasting my great accomplishments. I am a hero, you know." She tossed her head, flipping some curls back off her shoulder, and sent him a sly wink.
"'It's dangerous to meet a woman who fully understands you. It usually ends in marriage.'" Draco leaned back in his chair, eyes dancing across Hermione's face. Her eyes lit up like a chorus of fireflies streaming across a dusty sunset and she smiled knowingly.
"'I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.'"
"You've heard of Oscar Wilde?"
"You act as if I'm not muggleborn." Another laugh dripped from her lips and his face grew warm with blush.
"If I'm being honest, I quite forgot all about bloodlines." At that, Hermione's eyes glanced up at him from under sooty lashes.
"You've certainly changed, Draco Malfoy."
"So, this is where I'm leaving you then, huh?" Draco's voice was quiet in the small, empty square. Hermione's hair flew across her face in the wind and she pushed it back behind her ears to continue to look at him. He held all of her books in his hands, which were paler than usual because of the colder weather. Blonde hair fell into his eyes before the wind sweeped it away with a whoosh and then let it drop back into place.
"Unfortunately so, yes. Harry's mood is quite, uh. . .despondent. . .tonight, so I don't think he would enjoy you coming in."
"Understandable. I wouldn't want Potter waltzing into my apartment either if I weren't feeling well. Honestly, I wouldn't want him waltzing in at all." He let out a short laugh and cocked his head to the side slightly.
"Your apartment? I thought you lived at the Manor still." Hermione reached forward for her belongings and he relinquished them to her. He dropped his chin and crossed his arms.
"Well, no. I found a well-hidden place nearby to live. It's not much, but I figured I needed to get away. You know how bad my nightmares are now. . .they were much worse when I was still at home." Draco's voice had almost diminished completely.
"I understand. It's alright. That's one reason I'm here with Harry now. I couldn't bear to go home." He looked up at her.
"That reminds me. I wanted to ask this a while ago, how are your parents holding up after the whole war thing?" She froze. Draco's eyebrows crinkled in confusion as her entire body slackened at once. The books fell from her hands and as he reached forward to grab her, she slipped down towards the ground.
Her head filled with a buzzing noise, like an incessant dialing tone, and flashes of silver danced in her vision, mimicking the Obliviate spell so perfectly that tears immediately jumped to her eyes.
"Hermione!" Her name sounded far, far away. The voice was garbled, but oh so familiar, and she tried to focus on the hands grabbing at her. When her head cracked upon cold stone, the static and flashing spells finally stopped.
She recognized the natural scent of her room, with the strong hint of cinnamon and vanilla that matched her soaps and perfumes. Her choice of tea had to be nearby as well because she could practically feel the steam wafting towards her, carrying cream, honey, and sugar her way. Her nose twitched, picking up Harry's scent of citrus laundry detergent, fresh daises that he liked to pick for Ginny, and the (unfortunately) soothing burn of ash from his new habit of smoking. She hated it, but he wouldn't quit. Ginny had tried her hand at convincing him to stop, but he continued to do it when she wasn't around for a while.
Hermione inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring and the thick mucus in her throat caused her to try for another strangled breath.
A harsh assault of pine and smoke met her lungs. A tickle started in her chest and a quick huff of air through her nose quieted it. The surface beneath her shifted slightly and a relaxing meld of mint and firewhiskey greeted her as well.
The smells began to overwhelm her head and she felt her eyebrows stitch together tightly. The damp cloth on her forehead felt as rough as velcro and her lips parted to let a whine escape as she went to sit upright. A shaky hand pressed down on her shoulder.
"Please. . .don't stress yourself out." A voice strung together by silk thread and agonizing heartache. Hermione forced her eyes to open and she faced a dark room; blonde hair merely highlighted from the hall light as Draco sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the open door. A shadow was outlined leaning against the doorframe and she recognized the unruly mop of Harry's dark curls haloed in the orange glow.
His arms barred across his chest and his left ankle crossed over his right foot. She couldn't see the expression on his face but determined that it was probably very unhappy.
"You need to tell him." Harry's voice was unnaturally clipped and deep. Her fingers wrapped around the cloth blanket drapped over her, and she tugged it up towards her chin. He sighed and a shadowed hand reached up to ruffle the mess he called his hair. "Hermione, I love you dearly, but you really have to open up to people other than me and Ron."
"You used correct grammar."
"For God's sakes, woman!" Hermione pulled the cover tighter around her. Draco watched the exchange with tight lips and dark eyes. Harry had moved farther into the room, both hands thrown up in the air as if in surrender. "Stop worrying about the littlest things, stop being conflicted over things you cannot control, stop trying to dictate everything in your life! You're letting this kill you!" He dropped his hands and collapsed on the other side of her bed, weight pressing down on the mattress as he slumped and his head bowed low.
"It's ripping you apart, Hermione. . .you need to stop." His eyes were pleading fields of marshland, looking up at her with the dewy afterglow of a fresh rain. "I am one person. You are one person. We can only take so much, and no matter how much I may love and adore you, I cannot take care of you all by myself. Please, for the love of God and muggle heaven above, talk to him. He deserves to know."
With that said, Harry stood once more. He turned towards the doorway before pausing and facing her once more. Taking her face in his hands, he leaned forward to press a wet kiss to her forehead. He left the room quietly.
"Do you want to explain?" Draco's voice was also deeper than usual and Hermione winced.
"I'm hurting all of you."
"No. You're not." His eyes met hers in the dark room and she swallowed; the lump in her chest growing to fill her throat as well. "But you need to talk to me, Granger. I've told you a lot of things that I have never told anyone. Are you hiding things from me that I should know, or is Potter just going crazy again? I need to know if I am to you, what you are to me."
"What I am. . .?" His face was dark but she noticed the clench of his jaw nonetheless.
"A. . .a friend. A great friend. Possibly, my best friend. I. . .I don't really have words for this. . .whatever this is. Do you understand?" She felt herself nod. "I'm here for you, no matter what. I know that our past history is difficult to move forward from, but I can only hope that you will try." He paused, leaning closer towards her, cold hands clutching at her own feverish fingers. "I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry. Hermione. . .I was horrific. I was absolutely bat-shit wrong about everything. I'm so sorry. I know, you've already said that you forgive me, but I never apologized appropriately. All those years, all that time, I bullied you and tormented you and literally cursed you. I hexed your teeth and your hair, made fun of the way you acted and spoke and lived, totally embarrassed you on the daily and was overly rude to everyone around me. I was an entitled, over-pampered, egotistical, racist dick. I am so, so, so sorry." He took a breath and she saw that his eyes had closed at some point during his rant. "And I know that this apology probably means nothing at this point and it doesn't make up for anything at all, but I mean it. I mean every single word I say to you. I don't think I can ever forgive myself for what I did but I am trying my damn hardest to move past it and be better. I want to be better; if not for myself, then for my family. . .society. . .you. . ."
"Draco, shut up." His head snapped up quickly. "I know all of that. You've said it more times than I can count, honestly." She lowered her eyes to the blanket covering her lap. "It's my turn to apologize and explain things, though."
"Please tell me what's going on."
"Well, to begin with, I'm terribly sick." A coarse laugh slipped from her lips. "I hardly eat, I barely sleep, I focus on everything but my health." She paused, and with an encouraging nod from him, she continued. "I. . .I tend to over stress and then throw up from my own thoughts making me sick. . .I don't know how to stop it. I don't know why it happens. I've been trying to figure all of this out, but I just don't get it."
"I'm hiding from my mistakes and running from my problems. There's so much involved in that conversation topic, though, that it may take hours to dive into."
"I'm looking to work in the Ministry but I'm starting to really doubt that that's where I want to be. I want to make a difference and it seems like the most logical place to start, but I'm not a hundred percent certain anymore."
"Emotions are not my thing. I'm absolutely dreadful with emotions. I don't let people in and I don't let them know how I'm really feeling. I'm especially shit with emotional magic. My wandless magic? Total luck. I got so, so lucky with that. When we were on the run for the Horcruxes-"
"The what?" Draco's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion and she remembered that he had no clue of how Voldemort had retained his slight "immortality".
"I'll explain that later; it's not important." He nodded. "But, anyways, when Harry and I were out during the war, he broke his wand. We only had my wand at that point, so we shared it. I figured that Harry needed it much more than I did so I practiced some wandless magic to ensure that if he had the wand and I needed to fight or anything, I had it covered. . .and I did. I excelled so much that I didn't even notice that I could do it at the drop of a hat until I accidentally pinned Ron to a wall because he was annoying me."
"I wish I could've been there; that sounds bloody brilliant." Hermione rolled her eyes to look at him. He was grinning in such a childish manner that she almost began to laugh.
"You are ridiculous."
"You're short."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"I don't actually know; I just like feeling better than other people." At this, Hermione actually laughed. Draco smiled down at her, before he sighed quietly. "But. . .Hermione. . ."
"Yes, Draco?" With the whisper of his name, his breath caught between his lips. As his tongue darted out to wet them, he shook his head gently.
"When I mentioned your parents. . .and the war. . .you fainted. What is it, that just. . .what happened?" She wouldn't meet his eye and he didn't push for her to do so. Her fingers tightened around his own and he then realized that he had never actually let go.
"They're not around anymore."
"What? Did he. . .were they. . ?"
"I, that is to say, I mean. . ." She sighed and he saw the crystal teardrops clinging to her eyelashes begin their trek down her cheeks. "I erased their memories of me. . .and sent them away. . .to Australia."
"Granger, what the hell?" Hermione bristled.
"Don't 'what the hell, Granger' me, Draco Malfoy!" She thrust his hand away from her.
"I just can't believe you would do something so stupid!" Draco stood and began to pace her bedroom. "I mean, honestly, I understand your thought process, I guess, but there was a much better way you could've done things."
"Oh," she drawled out sarcastically, "do enlighten me, dearest." The words dripped in venom and her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"They were in harm's way even without their memories! If You-Know-Who had tracked them down and tortured them, it would have made no difference to him! They would have been better off in hiding, somewhere! Anywhere! Wherever you and the others had disappeared to, perhaps? They never found you, so surely your parents would've been safe!" His voice was reaching a desperate pitch at this point and he felt his body begin to tremble. Just the thought of her sacrifice drew cold ice through his veins.
"His name is Voldemort, Malfoy. Say it. He is dead and gone and will never return. And, honestly you dolt, we were caught! We were brought to the Manor, remember? Your crazed aunt and this-" She raised her left forearm to reveal the healed scar and inky, branded constellation. He winced and opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off with a glare that could have curdled milk. "But still, I cannot change what I did and I desperately wish I could. Do you really think that I didn't try to find other solutions? Do you really think of me as being so dense?"
"How do you know he's truly gone? We thought that once before but then, bam! He's back and worse than ever!" His hands slipped through his hair, tugging harshly at his scalp. "And I could never think of you as anything less than the brilliant witch you are, Hermione. But, this! This is ridiculous!"
"They wouldn't have been safe with the Order! They wouldn't understand and they would've wanted to fight! You think I grew up with a passive influence in my life? I was taught discipline, justice, strength, perseverance, resilience, and adaptation. My parents always told me to fight the system which tries to quiet me! To never, ever let them take away my voice and education. That includes the education life grants us all by experience, Malfoy. That's why they never would have stayed in this dusty old house, never doing anything to fight for the world their daughter lives in! They would rather die!"
"You don't understand!"
"No, no, I understand perfectly fine! You're the one who's not getting it through their massively thick skull!"
"Shut up, Granger!" She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes and a gaping jaw. His eyes were burning coals, smoking away to ash with his anger. As he stepped closer towards her, his entire body shook. "You do not understand. He could return at anytime, be it now or in ten years. How do you know that you ultimately ended him? How are you so certain? He could arrive at this doorstep at this very moment and yet, you're not worried one bit. What if, when he comes back, he goes straight to Australia and finds your parents? What are you going to do then? How will you protect them?" His rambling was breathless and she watched him as his shaky fingers clawed at his face. Hermione moved forward as if to grab his hands away but paused, uncertain.
"One day, you could be in your own home, just laying your child to sleep, and You-Know-Who could come smashing through the window. What if I-what if you're alone? What will you do? How can you fight off the most powerful wizard to have ever lived?"
"But he's not-"
"He is." Red streaks adorned his pale cheeks and she noticed tears welling up under his eyelids. "He is, Hermione. He can delve into your mind and assualt your thoughts. Just. . .rips away at any sense of security. He digs and digs, can find what it is that destroys you and use it against you. He can create images and events so vividly that life itself seems false. Why do you think I prepared myself so diligently against his attacks by learning damned Occlumency? Why do you think I'm so scared? When have I ever been anything but calm and collected? Answer me! Why are you not terrified by the threat he poses?"
"I am scared. I am scared, Draco, but not of him. Not anymore. I know that he is gone because we destroyed every last shred of his soul, his being, the thing keeping him tied to this world. It's gone. It's all gone and he's never coming back." He swallowed tightly. "I'm scared, though, of the world left in his wake. The anger, the injustice, the depression, and the inequality. But, I'm working to fix it. I will fix it. We go right to the source, we change the structure of society, we change the entire future this world becomes. My children and your children will grow up in a world where there is no blood rift, there is no discrimination, but instead happiness and peace. Life, exhilarating life, and easy breathing. We will make it that way. Please, don't be scared anymore. He can't get you. No one will get hurt anymore. My parents are safe, and so are yours. I promise."
Draco sunk back down into the mattress and collapsed in Hermione's outstretched arms. As he began to cry heavily, Hermione felt her own tears seep down and she leaned her head down to lay on top of his.
"Damn, we are so broken." His voice was muffled in her chest but she still let out a hoarse laugh at the offhanded comment.
"Indeed we are, Malfoy." Her fingers grazed through his hair and as the tears dissipated, she noticed the change in her attire for the first time. Instead of what she left in, she was draped in one of Harry's old Quidditch jerseys with a pair of purple shorts that had a white bow tied around her waist messily. "Uh, I hate to make this awkward or anything. . .but did you change my clothes for me?" He sat up quickly, eyes blurred by tears but still appalled at her question.
"What kind of person do you think I am, Granger?"
"Just curious." Her shoulders lifted in a tired shrug.
"Potter shooed me out to go make tea while he put some pajamas on you. . .though, I'm not sure if that's any better than me dressing you." She raised an eyebrow.
"And why's that?"
"Well, I. . .I've seen you undressed before, so it's not. . .it's not quite as scandalous. . ." He stumbled over his words and she tried her hardest not to laugh at the flushed appearance his face had now become.
"I hate to break it to you, but Harry has seen me completely naked before while you've only seen me in underwear. Therefore, it's not as scandalous as you're thinking it might be."
"Why the hell has he seen you naked?" Draco was spluttering now and she was surprised he was still comprehensive.
"We've been bestfriends for the past nine years. You act like we haven't had our share of awkward, accidental bathroom walk-ins. . .and, of course, other events that probably should never be spoken of ever again. . ." Hermione was tugging on her hair again. Draco's eyes burned through her and she felt a shiver of heat tingle down her spine.
"I'm about to do something incredibly, absolutely, ridiculously stupid." His voice was low and she stopping pulling for just a second to study the harsh lines of his face.
"You're always doing stupid shit, what could possi-" The words were stolen from her mouth as his fingers curled around the back of her neck and pulled her lips down to meet his.
Salted but still sweet, the canvas of his mouth laid velvety against her own. She melted against him, drawing in his scent and taste. Her arms circled around his neck while his fingers buried themselves in her hair. Carefully, she clambered out from the covers to settle herself in his lap. He groaned in approval before wrapping an arm tightly around her waist. Their breathing quickened and she let her lips drop to his chin, then jaw and neck. The sounds that escaped his mouth gave her a sense of power and she trailed her tongue flatly over the ridge of his collarbone, hands pulling down the stiff collar of his shirt.
The bang of the door opening suddenly broke them apart. Harry stood in the doorway and stared at them for a moment.
"Ginny's here. Lounge." He ran a hand through his hair and deliberately refused eye contact. "And next time, use a silencing spell on the room." He disappeared, leaving the door ajar. Draco's hands brushed Hermione's hair away from her face.
"Well, talk about embarrassing."
"That wasn't terrible."
"If you say so." She pulled away from him and stood. Adjusting Harry's top, she stepped into the bathroom just far enough to check her hair in the mirror. With a nod of approval, she turned back to see Draco watching her with a soft expression on his face. "What?"
He shook his head gently. "Let's go see what Weaselette wants, shall we?"
"Don't call her that."
"But it fits."
"Doesn't matter. She'll kick your ass."
"Fair point."
They entered the lounge where they saw Harry drinking from a whiskey glass and Ginny pacing in front of the fireplace, still dressed in her Hollyhead Harpies uniform.
"Gin? How are you?" Hermione went over to embrace the redhead in a hug. Ginny's hugs were ferocious and Hermione could have sworn she felt her organs shift in the tight grip of her friend. "What's up?"
"Would anyone like a drink?" Harry's voice was deeper again. Hermione eyed her friends. Ginny was avoiding Harry's questioning look while Draco stood to the side of the room.
"No, thank you." The two young women answered at the same time. Hermione looked at Ginny in confusion. Ginny was usually found with a large glass of Cognac after Quidditch practice and for her to explicitly deny alcohol, was a sight Hermione had never beheld. Harry froze; he, too, accustomed to her usual routine and shocked by her response.
"What?" His voice was quiet. Ginny's eyes draped over the walls and her fingers ripped at her nail beds.
"I, I just don't feel like drinking. Practice was extremely weary today. My stomach probably couldn't handle it." She avoided eye contact, but her gaze landed on Draco's blonde hair and she balked. "Malfoy? Why are you here?"
"I. . .uh, I was here to drop Granger off after dinner."
"Dinner? Are you two dating now?"
"Ginny," Harry said. "What's wrong?"
"Wha-what do you mean, "what's wrong"? Nothing's wrong. How could, how could anything be wrong? I'm just exhausted from, from practice. I don't think. . .I don't think that you understand how hard they really work you." Hermione was the closest to Ginny and she saw the glossy dew in her friend's eyes. She reached a hand out.
"Ginny. . .?" Ginny turned to face Hermione and stiffened.
"I'm pregnant." The shatter of Harry's glass on the wood floor caused Draco to wince and start back until he hit the wall. Ginny didn't look at either of them, choosing instead to keep her eyes on Hermione's frozen expression. "At least, I think I am. I don't, I don't know for certain. It all-it just, it happened so fast, Mione. I've missed a month and, yes, it's usually irregular but I've been rather sick of late. I, I threw up the other day and I've felt sort of woozy and lightheaded at certain points of the day. Is this, is this normal? Should this be happening? I don't know what to do." Ginny moved forward into Hermione's open arms and began to cry heavily. She had never seen the younger girl break down like this before.
Harry was still standing frozen, hand extended as if he was still holding his glass. Draco had calmed down now with his arms hugging himself tightly. Not a muscle moved from either of them, until she saw Harry swallow.
"Gin. . .?" She shook in Hermione's arms. "Ginny. . ." Harry's voice was so soft that Hermione could barely hear it. She gently removed the young girl from her embrace and turned her to look at him. He had taken his glasses off and was pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Harry. . .?" He slipped his glasses back on and took a step forward. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this to you. . ." His face twisted.
"What? What do you mean? This is one of the best things to ever happen to me. Ginny, I've been waiting for this day since I was sixteen and finally realized how much I fucking love you."
". . .really?"
"Yes."
"But we're still so young! You're only nineteen, you have a future in the Auror department, you're the savior of the Wizarding World. You don't need to be tied down to some eighteen year old Quidditch player with no money."
"Ginny, you are my future. Not the shitty Auror department. Not the Wizarding World. I'm just a kid that fulfilled his destiny, blah blah, shit excuse after shit excuse, ridiculous mentors that never cared about my well-being to start with, and a weird fucking scar. You noticed me first as Harry Potter, the boy who lived, but you moved past that and began to recognize me as Harry Potter, the annoying prick that got your brother into all kinds of mischief. You got to know me and care about me because that's who you are. You're badass and caring and strong and emotional. This child is the best thing to happen to me, right after falling in love with you." Harry had scooped Ginny into her arms and, as his own tears began to fall, Draco gripped Hermione's elbow and gently tugged her out of the room. He closed the door behind them quietly.
"That got extremely personal, really fast." Draco shifted his weight from foot to foot and his teeth gnawed on his bottom lip.
"Are you uncomfortable watching intimate moments?"
"No, it's just that, well, they're intimate moments. Would you want them watching while you tried to explain to me that-" He paused, eyes wide as he realized what he said. Her own face shifted into surprise.
"While I tried to explain to you what, Draco?" He shook his head.
"Nothing. I just, intimate moments should be spent between those they impact and not an audience."
"Ah, okay, I see." She turned to go back towards her room. He watched her go for a moment before following. "I'm going to apply for the Ministry tomorrow. Would you like to join me?" She stopped in front of the door.
"Why?"
"Intimate moments should be spent with those they impact, didn't you just say that?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"My future is an intimate moment that concerns you, Draco." Their eyes locked. His hand reached out to sit on her shoulder for a second before he pulled her into a warm embrace.
"As long as you come with me to an interview with Professor McGonagall."
"Of course."